Monster Love
by Plesiosaur
Summary: The highly anticipated (by me) multi-chapter sequel to Extracurricular! After graduation there are so many challenges for two newly qualified witches, especially somehow explaining to Hunson Abadeer that his only daughter is dating a muggleborn girl. But some secrets won't stay buried and danger can come from unexpected places. Hogwarts AU Bubbline! Rated M for gore/sex.
1. Chapter 1

**CRASH** ! **BOOM! SURPRISE!**

 **How long have I been saying I'm going to write the obligatory Hogwarts AU crossover fic? I'll tell you, too damn long. And gosh darn it if this hasn't struck me at the point where I have at least a thousand other projects on the go. Like, I'm in the process of having an original short story published, I have a ton of unfinished fics, I'm proofing for a veritable army of writers (NOT A COMPLAINT, I LOVE YOU GUYS) and the less said about my personal life the better. But this has been rolling around the backburner for so long, and I'm trying to tie up loose ends. So, if you love Adventure Time and you love Harry Potter and you read Extracurricular, here is the multi-chapter sequel I promised you. It also works as a stand-alone, if you don't want to be bothered to go read my one shot.**

 **I need to shout out to ALL my fabby fab fic buddies here, for their support through what's shaping up to be a rough year for me. And expecially to a certain Mr Peter for letting me cry on his shoulder and getting me a published story gig. Seriously these years I've spent writing in both the fandom communities and creating original fiction have been the most productive and rewarding of my life and you know who makes that possible? You do. My readers. Your words of encouragement and your support mean the world, you guys have gotten me through some pretty dark times. So, what I'm saying is, by popular demand I owe you this story. Love you guys so much.**

 **Content Warning: pureblood names that nobody else will even get but I had fun with, implied sexytimes and alcohol, a subtle game of Spot The Bronte Reference.**

* * *

The sunlight streaming through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall was getting in her eyes and Marceline was not feeling particularly celebratory or jubilant the way her classmates were that day. She squinted past the bright light and tried to focus on the droning speech McGonagall was giving them up on the podium but it wasn't long before her attention stood up and wandered off. It almost immediately went to the back of a sleek light red head a few rows in front and to the left and Marcy fought to keep a smile off her face. Bonnie would be paying rapturous attention, no doubt. She looked so smart in her graduation robes, she'd practically glowed with pride at winning that year's prize in Potions. Snape's face had been an absolute picture of distaste when he handed it to her but Bonnie had easily been grinning enough for two; possibly enough for three or four.

Everyone was applauding politely and Marcy snapped her attention back to the present where McGonagall had finally shut up and was stepping down from the podium. Of course the rowdy gaggle of Gryffindors near the front ruined it for everyone by whooping and cheering like idiots, waving their arms in the air and winning an indulgent smile from their head of House. But Marcy didn't care, soon enough she wouldn't have to put up with them ever again. The flip side of that was that soon enough it would become a lot harder to sneak off to visit her girlfriend and that sucked majorly. Whatever, she was minutes away from being a fully qualified adult witch. She could do what she wanted, see who she wanted and damn her father's opinion.

The graduates were called alphabetically house by house up to the podium to receive their diplomas and shake Dumbledore's hand, much as they had seven years previous at their Sorting. As Professor McGonagall was calling "Madigan, Jacob Joshua!" and a curly haired, heavyset Hufflepuff sauntered out of the crowd with a wide grin Marcy leaned over and whispered to her best friend.

"Psst, Lyds. You had a chance to scan the parental crowd yet?"

A curvy girl with a head of freshly charmed purple curls turned to her and nodded ever so slightly.

"Yep. I know what you're wondering and yes, your father is here. Daddy dearest was glaring down his nose at Snape last time I saw, I'd eat my wand if Snape gave a shit though. Dude's a tank." Lydia whispered back. She caught a cold glance from McGonagall and straightened up hastily. As if there was anything the sour old bitch could do to them on graduation day, Marcy thought with a snort of amusement. Wow, so her father had actually shown up. Apparently wonders would never cease.

"Abadeer, Marceline Sahira Guenièvre Daayani."

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, Marceline stumbled forwards as Lyds slapped her back and grinned wickedly at her. In fact most of her year were grinning or openly laughing; she could see Bonnie trying hard to hide giggles around her hand. And Marcy had _begged_ for them to just use her first name, too. She shot a dark scowl out at the crowd of parents at the back of the Great Hall and was certain she saw Professor Petrikov beaming back at her. Or, Uncle Simon as she'd have to remember to call him again. It had taken a good few years to get used to calling him 'Professor' and now she was back to calling him Simon plain and simple. Marceline sighed and accepted her diploma and handshake from a twinkly eyed Dumbledore; the old wizard at least must understand her pain since he'd also been cursed with a pretentiously long pureblood name.

"Congratulations Miss Abadeer." he told her seriously. "And the very best of luck for the future, I feel certain you shall move mountains."

"Thank you, sir." she replied, still blushing. And then she was down from the podium and back in her place in the crowd and just like that Marceline was a fully qualified and graduated witch. It was a little scary, actually.

"Sable-Pendragon, Lydia Lorelei."

Lyds swept forwards like a queen at her coronation, smirking out at her parents at the back of the hall and her classmates gazing up at her. Marcy applauded for her friend and scanned the graduates. One more House left to be called and then they'd be done.

She waited through the B's, Fs and Js, once "Kil Whan, Lady" had been called and "Princess, Helena" has also stepped down from the podium it was all Marcy could do to keep from fidgeting. Any second now-

"Sugar, Bonnibel Penelope."

There she was, just as gorgeous as ever and beaming around at everyone while McGonagall gave her a fond smile on her way past. The old cat loved Bonnie despite her being a Ravenclaw, probably thought there was something disgusting going on between her and Finn Mertens. He was one of Bonnie's closest prefect friends and an annoying golden Gryffindor boy but also pretty chill about walking into an empty classroom and catching the two of them glued together at the lips that one time. Finn had taken Marcy aside afterwards and seriously told her that if she hurt Bonnie he'd hurt her and it had been all Marcy could do not to laugh in his stupid, earnest face. She'd faced off across the Quidditch pitch against the muscular blonde Beater more than once and she knew she could fly rings around him as well as Charm his nose off before he'd even lifted his wand if she needed to. Besides she had no intention of ever hurting Bonnie.

The redhead in question almost glowed in the summer sun, radiantly happy and prettier than ever. If Lyds hadn't been standing right next to her Marcy might have let herself swoon just a little. Briefly the redhead's eyes flickered in her direction and a slight pink blush crept onto her smooth cheeks when she noticed the way her girlfriend was watching her. She turned and shook Dumbledore's hand, smiling in reply to something he murmured to her, and stepped down from the podium to resume her place too. So they were both adult witches now, Marcy thought. Weird. But good weird, probably.

"Well, congratulations to our new graduates! And may you always look back on your days at Hogwarts with the very fondest of memories. Go forth and make us proud." Dumbledore announced loudly a couple of minutes later when the very last Ravenclaw had collected his diploma. He gestured to the hall and the students and parents began to file out into the grounds, chattering in loud excited voices.

"SCHOOL'S OUT! WOOO!" a loud voice yelled.

"Mertens!" McGonagall snapped.

"Sorry, Professor!"

"He's such an adorable goof." Lydia observed with a sigh. Marcy shook her head, at a loss for something to say.

"If you're into goofy then Mertens must be the man of your dreams. What happened to Brad?"

"Dumped him, he's seeing Melissa Honeyrose now. Whatever, I don't even care. I'm gonna get me some inter-house fraternization with Mertens." Lydia replied with a salacious wink.

"Not if Phoebe Burns gets you first." Marcy replied teasingly. Finn's girlfriend was notoriously fiery tempered, she was every inch a Weasley despite taking her step-father's surname when her mother had remarried. She had younger cousins in Gryffindor, she'd been instrumental in training both Bill and later Charlie Weasley in Quidditch. Marcy didn't fancy Lydia's chances if Phoebe found out the curvy Slytherin girl had designs on her boyfriend.

"Whatever. At least I'm not lying about having a secret lover. You're so lame, Marcy, you-"

"Marceline."

The cold, interrupting voice accompanied a hand on her shoulder and she turned with a sinking heart.

"Daddy. You came." she murmured, looking at his shoes instead of the frown like a thundercloud across his severe face.

"Of course I came. You are my only child, do you think I would miss your graduation?"

She bit back the answer, _I'd hoped you might_. Besides, Uncle Simon had come along too and she was more than happy to accept the huge hug he flung around her shoulders a moment later.

"Marcy! Oh, I'm so proud of you, darling!" he beamed down at her.

"Thanks, Prof- Simon. Guess you were surprised when I won the Charms prize, huh?" Marcy smiled back teasingly, relieved that her uncle was there as a buffer between her and Hunson.

"Marceline, we are leaving. Come now, I've had the house elves prepare a meal for your return." her father informed her in much the same tones as a healer pronouncing the time of a patient's death. Marcy frowned from where Simon was still hugging her.

"I'm staying here tonight. It's the graduation party, I'm not missing it." she scowled. Hunson frowned harder than ever.

"I am not asking you, girl. We are leaving and you are coming home, now. Do not even think to defy me, I-"

"Mr Abadeer! Well, hello! You remember me, don't you? Lydia Sable-Pendragon, I'm Marcy's best friend!" Lyds cut in loudly, seizing Hunson's hand and shaking it vigorously. "I'm sure you remember my father, Ithiel Pendragon?"

"Pendragon. Yes. How is your father?" Hunson asked grudgingly.

"Oh he's just fine, still grinding away at those imbeciles at Gringotts about Grandpapa's inheritance but you know how goblins are." Lydia prattled away, sliding a half smile to Marcy when Hunson was occupied with attempting to extricate his hand without appearing rude.

Ithiel Pendragon had been unfairly conned out of his father's inheritance when the senile old wizard had rewritten his will, leaving every last rusty knutt to Gringotts Bank itself. Since an institution or building could not legally hold a private fortune he'd spent the better part of Lydia's life petitioning to get it back through the courts. It was a subject that the curvy girl was fond of holding forth on and had often wielded to devastating advantage when she'd discovered that people would agree to most things if she bored them to the point where they stopped listening. Marcy held her tongue and watched with amusement as her father instantly tuned out the chattering girl.

"Hmm, yes. Of course." Hunson automatically murmured when Lydia paused for breath. He frowned at looked back at her when she didn't continue talking, taking in the wide smile on her face that matched the devious one his daughter was wearing.

"Thanks, Daddy! I'll let you know what time I'll be back tomorrow!" Marcy replied sweetly.

"Excuse me?" Hunson growled back.

"Lydia just told you she couldn't do without my help running the party tonight and asked if you could possibly spare me one day longer." Marcy reminded him helpfully. Hunson ran the last few minutes of half heard conversation through his head with a scowl. Dammit, the Pendragon girl had talked him into a promise.

"Yes. Of course. I shall entrust my daughter's wellbeing to you for the evening then, Miss Pendragon." Hunson said in glacial tones.

" _Sable-_ Pendragon. My mother's from the French line of the Blacks." Lydia corrected him, just a touch smugly.

"Ah, Severus! May I have a word?" Hunson called a little desperately as he noticed the tall, sallow man passing by them through the crowd. Snape looked like he would rather swallow dung than talk to Hunson and Marcy couldn't blame him. But he had no polite way of declining, Hunson was his second cousin through his mother and family was important.

"Hunson. Marceline. How may I be of service?" he inquired, staring around unsmilingly with cold black eyes.

"I had a number of questions over the unanswered owls regarding my daughter's progress in potions. Girls, this may take some time. I'll see you tomorrow." Hunson added, nodding to Marcy to dismiss her.

She didn't need to be told twice, she spun on her heel and marched off across the grass with Lydia hanging off her arm. The moment they were out of earshot both girls burst into furious giggles.

"Snape's face!"

" _Daddy's_ face!"

"Oh you're in for such a lecture tomorrow, Marcy!"

"Worth it for the party. Besides, I'm gonna introduce you to my girlfriend." Marceline grinned back. She took a moment to look over Lydia's head at where Bonnie was hugging her muggle mother. Tonight they were gonna tell their close friends about their relationship now that the imminent stress of exams was done. Lydia probably wouldn't freak, she thought dating a muggleborn was cool and edgy. Lady would definitely freak because she thought all Slytherins were beneath contempt. Whatever, Marcy was gonna charm her stupid Ravenclaw nose off her face if she had to.

 _Soon_ , she thought in the direction of Bonnie's gorgeous smile. _Soon I'm gonna tell everyone that I'm yours and they can just fuck themselves if they don't approve. Cause I'm in love with you and one day I'm even gonna get the courage to tell you so._

...

Next morning the quiet breathing of two sleeping women was interrupted by the whir of wings and the noise of parchment being dropped from a height onto someone's head. It was closely followed by murmured swearing and a pale arm groped forwards toward a pair of round glasses on the nightstand next to a glass of water with a note next to it. The note read, _To sober/hungover Bonnie, love drunk Bonnie x_ and a careful sniff revealed it contained nothing more sinister than water which she drained in four gulps before turning to the letter that had just been delivered.

"Marcy, wake up."

"Hrnh?"

"You got an owl. From your father."

"Hu? Wossit say?"

"Umm, 'Come home as soon as you receive this message, we need to discuss family matters that cannot wait. Do not dally. You have already engaged my displeasure.' No signature but I'm gonna guess this isn't from your Uncle Simon."

" _Fuck_. Where did my bra end up?"

"Err, probably the floor of Hufflepuff common room. Jake Madigan ended up wearing it for a dare, you don't remember? You had quite a lot of Firewhiskey last night so I'm not really surprised."

"Double fuck. I need to borrow one of yours. We're about the same size."

"But I already packed."

"No worries. _Accio nerd bra!_ "

"Marcy!"

Too late, the trunk at the end of the bed flung itself open and a pink lacy bra soared out and landed neatly in Marceline's outstretched hand. She grinned triumphantly and then winced as the movement caused the hangover to slosh around like her skull was half full of boiling water. Bonnie frowned at her.

"Where's Lady? You're awfully nude." Marcy continued as she slid the bra on. It was just a little baggy on the bust but she didn't really mind, she just couldn't turn up for a 'family discussion' with Hunson and not be wearing a full complement of underwear. Bonnie was sitting up in bed next to her with Hunson's letter in one hand and the bed sheets slipped halfway down her smooth, shapely legs. Everything from the knee up was wonderfully pink and naked. Marcy took a moment admire her unbelievably gorgeous girlfriend before lifting her wand again and muttering, " _Accio pepperup!_ "

"She's in the Hufflepuff dorm with Jake. She didn't want to spend the night here if you were staying, even though I offered to put a silencing charm on the bed curtains. And please don't filch all my potions, you could at least ask first." Bonnie replied crossly. It was too late anyway, Marcy had already gulped down the Pepperup Potion and was smiling around the brief gush of steam coming from her ears. Her hangover instantly eased to a very dull ache in the back of her brain, easy to overlook.

"Sorry babe. My need was greater, I've gotta go home to my stupid father and probably talk about something boring like tax or careers or something." Marcy replied as she wiggled back into the rest of her clothes.

"Speaking of careers, what are you gonna do now?" Bonnie asked with a sigh.

"I'm gonna be a rock star!" Marcy replied in a muffled voice from under her shirt. She shrugged a short sleeve robe over the top and added a nonverbal sleeking charm over her hair, grinning down at where Bonnie was still sprawled languidly in her bed. The redhead shook her head with a slightly strained smile.

"You're gonna loaf around and wait for your father to eventually die so you can inherit his money and loaf around some more. Marcy, come on. You're too damn talented to waste yourself like that." Bonnie replied chastenedly.

"I mean it. I'm gonna be a rock star. I'm starting a band." Marcy replied. Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Hey, how do I look?"

"Very pureblood. You look a lot like one of the kids who used to call me a mudblood and try to make me feel unwelcome in my first few years here. I don't like it on you." Bonnie frowned.

"I'm just dressing to try to lessen the parental disappointment lecture. Babe, you know I'm not like them. Don't you?" Marceline asked her softly. She reached out and gently tilted Bonnie's chin until their eyes met.

"Yeah. I know." Bonnie sighed.

"I'll see you soon, right?" Marcy asked.

"Yeah. See you soon."

"Bonnie?"

"Yeah?"

"I, uh. Ok. See you soon. I'll owl you."

She turned and regretfully slouched out of the room, making for the Owlery where she'd stashed her broom because walking outside of the apparation wards was for losers. Almost, she thought to herself. She'd so nearly, almost, managed to get the words out but they'd stuck in her throat at the last minute. It was too soon, just a couple of weeks. The warm wind rushing past her face as she flew down to Hogsmead whispered against her ears, it almost sounded like words if she let it. _Love you love you love you love-_

Marcy landed unnecessarily hard just outside the school wards, shouldered her broom and disapparated with a quite _pop!_

...

The traditional Abadeer family home of Moor House was at least well named, Marceline thought morosely as she trudged through the damp bracken towards the outer wards. It was most definitely a house and it was built on a moor. Trust her stupid ancestors to be so amazingly unimaginative in the naming department as to call it _Moor fucking House_. Marcy would have called it Heatherheath Manor, The House At The End Of The World, Leech Hall or simply Lonely Hell. Perhaps she'd rename it once her father died, she mused as she walked. She hated the necessity of traipsing through all that wet, leechy foliage to get inside the wards but because her father's family had been suspicious and rather dark sorts any attempt to fly through the wards would result in her broom instantly bursting into flames between her legs. That was not a place she liked the idea of getting a severe burn.

Moor House loomed square and foreboding in front of her like a fat middle finger held up against nature. Marceline was willing to bet that there wasn't an Abadeer born who didn't hate that place for one reason or another but they all returned home sooner or later. The homing instinct was strong in them, like migrating birds. Or flobberworms, she supposed. And one day the house would be hers, all five storeys of gloomy and damp misery. She wanted to sell it, for sure. But then... there was something about it, dappled in the uncertain Yorkshire sunshine as the perennial westerly wind drove scudding shreds of white cloud across the sky and whipped the end of her robes around her legs. Moor House was the setting of Marceline's best and worst memories. Her mother's hard-won little garden had fallen to ruin in the years since her death but on the few occasions she'd needed to cast a patronus Marceline still thought back to summer evenings in her mother's arms inspecting the snapdragons and heavily perfumed roses for fairy visitors before bed. Fuck it, Marceline decided angrily as she stared at the withered stalks and dead sticks. Tomorrow she'd pull on her mother's old gardening gloves and get out there, start making it look like the house was occupied again. And then she was going to Diagon Alley and posting fliers for her band. But first she had a meeting with her father to get through, so with a sigh Marceline let the wards wash around her, recognising her as a member of the family, and admit her along the gravel path leading up to Moor House.

The front doors were just as huge and imposing as they had been in her childhood and for a moment she wondered if she should knock or just slip inside as quietly as possible and sneak up the back staircase to her bedroom. After all Hunson's note hadn't said she had to come find him, just come home. Her stuff would be waiting for her, she knew. It had been sent with the family elf during the graduation ceremony the day before because obviously Hunson hadn't expected her to put her foot down and stay the very last night at Hogwarts when he'd ordered her to meekly follow him home like a lost puppy. The borrowed bra shifted uncomfortably against her chest and Marceline had a moment of regret for not forward planning her outfit better. She might look like a fabulous pureblood heir to her muggleborn girlfriend but Hunson would definitely find things to criticize about her clothing if she didn't keep him on track for whatever stupid lecture he had prepared.

As if thinking about Hunson had summoned him to her side a loud _crack!_ split the air and her father's elf Peppermint was bowing low in front of her in his usual red and white striped tablecloth-toga.

"Little Mistress. Welcome home." he murmured, eyes fixed on the floor. "Your father is waiting for you in his study."

She should have anticipated that, Marcy thought with a sigh. Her hangover was beginning to creep back as the Pepperup Potion wore off and it was still fairly early in the morning, Hunson must have known she'd only have had a couple of hours sleep. Even less, because Bonnie had kept her up half the night once they'd finished amazing Lydia by reassuring her that yes, they were a genuine couple and no, it wasn't a prank. But there was no time to start thinking about last night, not if she wanted to get through her interview with Hunson without blushing and thinking of slim, talented fingers slipping down her body and trailing across aching skin- she cut that line of thought off before it could get too graphic. Tomorrow, she'd owl her girlfriend and drop by for some intimate attention tomorrow right after she was done in Diagon Alley.

With a sigh Marceline went to Hunson's study door, knocked quietly and turned the handle when the cold "Enter" rang out from inside. She took the hard seat waiting for her in front of her father's desk and met his eyes nervously.

"Marceline. Good, you're home. We have much to discuss."


	2. Chapter 2

**Did anyone get the names in the last chapter? Lydia is, of course, LSP. And her middle name 'Lorelei' is a type of violent but beautiful water spirit that lures men to their deaths. It just seemed too LSP-ish not to use. As per pureblood tradition (completely just Dumbledore though) Marceline has a boatload of middle names.** **Guenièvre is the Francized version of the name of the adulterous and mysterious wife of King Arthur, Sahira is an Arabic name meaning 'magic' or 'witch' and Daayani is an ancient Sanskrit word meaning 'witch' or 'supernatural being'. Learning is fun.**

 **So, guess who got their short story published? Yup, I am officially back in the original writing game. In fact I'm going to write a second story for the anthology, I'm pretty happy with that.**

 **As ever, much love to my readers/reviewers! You guys rock.**

 **Content Warning: scares, foreshadowing, implied ladysexing.**

...

Peppermint got Marceline out of bed at six in the morning the next day, and Bonnie had already been at her first shift of her new job for an hour by then. Apprentice Healers got the worst hours imaginable to weed out the ones who weren't serious about their commitment to the profession. In typical stubborn Ravenclaw style Bonnie considered the dropouts to be weaklings anyway, not worthy of the hallowed lime green robes of the most noble profession in the wizarding world. She had a month of five AM starts followed by a month of nights, with lectures from senior Healers in between rotations on the wards. One hour in and she was already loving it more than she'd anticipated, and that had been quite a lot.

"Excuse me, miss. Are you a Healer?"

Bonnie turned to face a frazzled looking older blonde woman with a small boy in tow who had what appeared to be chicken feathers and a beak instead of hair and nose. He looked up at her with sad eyes and let out a mournful cluck.

"Yes, I'm Junior Healer Sugar, how can I help?" she replied brightly, swelling with pride at the new title.

"Accidental magic. He wanted eggs for breakfast and this happened, I can't figure out how to reverse it. A basic _finite incantatem_ doesn't seem to do the trick and the lady on your reception desk said to just go straight in and ask."

"Let's have a quick look then. How old are you, son?" Bonnie asked the boy, crouching down to his level and pulling her wand from her robes.

"Six." the boy clucked sadly. "I'm Zacharias Smith and I'm gonna be a Healer too."

"Nice to meet you, Zacharias. I'm Bonnie and I'm gonna fix you up, ok? It looks like you somehow managed the first part of a modified Animagus but got stuck because a chicken isn't your true Animagus form. I've seen this before, my gi- a friend of mine, she got partway stuck trying to be a direwolf. Hold still, sweetie."

He gasped as she traced a complicated pattern in the air above his feathery head. With a small _pop!_ the boy's nose and mouth reappeared to reveal he had slender, fox-like features although the crown of plumage stubbornly remained.

"There, now those feathers will fall out over the next few days and you'll be back to your handsome self in time for the weekend. And the good news is that the animal that reflects your soul isn't a chicken." Bonnie told him happily. Zacharias beamed and blushed a little.

"It's a badger, my family are all Hufflepuffs!" he announced in a proud voice. "Bye, Healer Bonnie! Thanks!"

She watched him and his mother walk off proudly as the odd feather drifted to the floor from his little blonde head.

"Nice catch, rookie. Anyone else would have panicked and shouted for their buddy but I knew you were more competent than the rest of them the minute I saw you. So your _gi- a friend_ is an Animagus, huh?"

It was Billy Shanley, the senior Healer Bonnie had been buddied with for her first year's training. She grinned at his praise and blushed down at her feet.

"I, um, it's kinda new. I didn't know if it was professional to out myself at work." she mumbled, blushing harder.

"I doubt anyone here cares who you're romantically involved with so long as you can heal them. As for your colleagues, well, St Mungos is known for being a queer friendly environment. So your girl's not a direwolf then?" he prodded, resting one massive hand on her shoulder with almost fatherly pride.

"Nah, she's still working on the transformation. Looks like it's some kind of bat but she hasn't gotten it completely yet. She was too stubborn to ask McGonagall for help."

"Slytherin?"

"How did you guess?"

"Proud, independent, wants to be a fierce scary wolf but is actually a cute little sky puppy?." he replied with a grin. Bonnie laughed.

"It's like you already know her!"

They spent the rest of the morning running through accidental magic reversal and scheduling her in to shadow with the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad who attended muggle incidents; Billy figured her background might be useful in smoothing over some of the more conspicuous assignments. And by the time Bonnie's lunch break rolled around she was very ready to head to the cafeteria and consume as many food shaped objects as she could find. But her way was blocked by Clive, the heavyset receptionist.

"Miss Sugar, there's a girl asking to see you." he told her with a frown. Billy raised his eyebrows teasingly.

"I'm about to go on my break, Clive. Can it wait?" Bonnie asked.

"No, miss. She said she needs to see you, specifically. And to, uh, tell you it happened again? And you'd know what she meant. I put her in a side room, she was scaring the kids."

"A few inches taller than me, olive skin, long black hair, too much eye makeup?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"She said you'd be expecting her." Clive added.

"She wasn't completely wrong. Ok, come on then."

Bonnie let out an exasperated sigh. Billy was a brilliant buddy and she was learning a lot from him but even he might draw the line at Marceline gate crashing her at work with stupid Animagus accidents. But what else could she do? It wasn't like he hadn't already heard the details of her partner's ongoing transformation process anyway. So with a sigh she gestured for Clive to lead the way and followed him down the hall to a small examination room. When she opened the door Marceline looked up and grinned sheepishly.

"Hey, babe. I got shtuck again." she slurred.

"You imbecile. You still haven't figured out your species?"

Marceline's face was covered in a soft down of fine black hair and her canines were too big to fit in her mouth properly, making it difficult to speak and covering her chin with little cuts and puncture wounds from where she'd tried to close her mouth instinctively. Bonnie shook her head in dismay. This far into the transformation and she was still getting it wrong? How hard could it be to figure out what type of bat she was?

"Come here, idiot. You're lucky I already practised this once today."

A moment later her girlfriend's face was back to being flawlessly beautiful. It was also leaning in suspiciously close and Bonnie was definitely not going to kiss her, not after that. Nope, not happening, not in a million years-

"My hero. My _sexy_ hero." Marcy whispered against her lips as the kiss broke for a moment. "We could lock the door, relieve some of that Healer stress I heard so much about."

It was hard to think through the thick fog of warm arousal kissing Marceline always stirred in her but Bonnie wasn't quite that far gone that she'd lost her senses completely.

"Not a chance, Abadeer. I'm not having sex with you at work on my first day. But if you want to drop by my place tonight, my mother will be out. Come get some lunch with me?"

Marceline sighed; her day wasn't going to plan. But the lure of spending an evening alone with her beautiful girlfriend was strong, even if she had to go to some weird Muggle house for it.

"You're lucky you're so hot, nerd. Fine, I'll come by tonight. Food, then?"

...

Marceline left with a smug grin on her face long after dark had fallen. She'd barely managed to get out the back door silently before Mama Sugar had come home and she was still lacing up her boots with a subtle non-verbal charm as she retreated down the dark rows of identical muggle houses where her girlfriend lived. In truth her legs ached fiercely, that last one had been an equal mix of pleasure and pain, but it was worth it. She could have simply disapparated from Bonnie's bedroom but she'd wanted the night air to cool her skin and the thinking time that walking to a less muggle-dense area would afford her. Returning home to Hunson straight after indulging in sensual delights with her girlfriend was a guaranteed way to kill her mood and if Marceline stayed out for a while there was every chance her father would have gone to bed anyway. So she walked, taking in the new sights and sounds of the muggle world and for once wearing her happy smile openly because there was nobody else around who even knew what Slytherin House was let alone who'd judge her for any obvious emotional displays.

Bonnie's hometown was small and hilly, before long Marceline found herself leaving the outskirts behind and heading out across crop fields only slightly illuminated by the waxing moon overhead. She wasn't afraid, it was nowhere near as dark as the moor in the depths of a winter's night and she was legally allowed to perform magic to protect herself should the worst happen. Besides who'd attack her, who even knew she was there? Even still, as she crunched across the stubble of a freshly cut wheat field towards a small copse of trees Marceline felt her heart speed up just a little. Whether it was from fear or excitement she wasn't sure; she loved being out in the darkness doing reckless things. The adrenaline rush from sneaking around in the prefect's bathrooms and ambushing Bonnie with wicked nakedness would have been worth it even if she hadn't gotten her dream girl out of it too because that sort of risk taking was what Marceline lived for. The fact that she'd successfully seduced the girl she'd been crushing on for months and ended up doing the sort of breathless, intimate things her father expected her to wait until an arranged marriage for was just the icing on the cake.

Marceline froze on the treeline and whipped around, suddenly aware of the sensation of eyes watching her. Somewhere in the darkness there was someone, a human or some kind of humanoid, a magical creature perhaps, but they could see her and she could see them. She was still too close to the village to risk disapparating, a noise like a gunshot in the middle of the night out there would draw unwanted attention from the local muggles. What the hell else could she do though? Marcy stared out into the darkness with her heart hammering loud in her ears.

There! On the other side of the small band of trees she could just make out a pale face staring at her. Was it human? Something else? For a moment she hesitated, panicking because of all those stupid late night horror stories Lydia had told her over the years about vampires stalking beautiful young women at night and falling on them in the darkness. But, they preferred virgins, right? And she wasn't a virgin, for certain. Unless they didn't count what lesbians did, and now was not the time to call out into the darkness to that distant figure and ask exactly what they considered to be a loss of virginity. Wait, where had they gone?

Marcy whirled as fresh terror gripped her and all at once the only thing in her head was to get away, _fly, get airborne-_

She didn't even realise it was the first time she'd managed the full Animagus transformation or that she'd finally gotten it right, she was too terrified to notice anything except her arms shrinking to delicately leathered wings and hearing becoming so acute it was painful to focus on the distant rumble of traffic from the muggle roads. Then she was away, skittering through the night with her wings beating frantically as she soared haphazardly over fields and rows of little square muggle houses until she reached the one she was looking for. As a flying Animagus Marceline knew she was supposed to take her time learning how to move in the air to avoid injury but there was no time, the vampire might be right behind her and she could imagine with terrified clarity exactly how it would feel for needle sharp teeth to pierce the side of her neck. Finally she saw Bonnie's house up ahead and a human shape moving behind the dully illuminated curtains. Marceline didn't wait to find out who it was, who else would be in Bonnie's bedroom anyway? She just flung herself at the open window and burst into the room with a terrified chitter that was drowned out by a woman's scream. For half a second Marceline wondered what the hell had happened to Bonnie to age her thirty years in the half hour or so since she'd left the first time, before realising who the shrieking woman must be. Oops.

...

"BONNIBEL SUGAR THERE IS A GIANT BAT IN YOUR BEDROOM! GET IN HERE AND EXPLAIN! IF THIS IS SOME MAGIC THING-"

"Mum, what the hell? It's almost one, what are you yelling for? I- Marcy?"

Yep, there was a giant bat on her bed and only one reasonable explanation.

"You named it?" her mother shrieked in horror. She wasn't fond of things that flew after being attacked by a pet parrot as a child and bats of any variety freaked her out. Which could only ever have been improved by the bat suddenly exploding upwards into a freaked out looking girl wearing outlandish clothes.

"Hello Mrs Sugar, I'm a friend of Bonnie's from school. Mind if I crash out here for a little bit? Pretty sure I was being stalked by a vampire out there, and uh, I don't think they can come into your house without permission, so-"

"It's a joke, Mum. She's joking. Vampires aren't real, it's fine, don't worry. I'll handle this, I'm sorry you got a fright. Everything's fine. This is Marceline, we were in the same Charms class." Bonnie cut in hurriedly. Her mother was staring between them with her mouth open.

"Right. Ok. Of course. A bat-witch from your Charms class at wizard school just came into my house to prank you about vampires. Ok. Yeah, makes sense. I'm going to bed." Mrs Sugar announced helplessly before backing out of the room and retreating to her own bedroom.

"Oops. I think I broke your mum." Marcy observed. Next second she shrank back in instinctive fear as an enraged redhead rounded on her.

"What the hell, Marceline? You can't just turn into a bat and fling yourself at my window until someone lets you in! Then come in here, shouting nonsense about _vampires,_ of all the stupid things! That was like, the opposite of how I wanted you to meet my mother!"

"I was scared! There was a legit vampire out there and now I'm its prey and it's gonna come try to turn me! Aren't you even a bit concerned that your girlfriend might-"

" _Shut up!_ "

"Alright, woah, calm down! So I take it your mother doesn't know you play Seeker on Team Queer then?"

"No, she does not. It was enough of a shock for her when a nice witch from the Ministry turned up on my eleventh birthday and informed her I was a witch too and I could go to magic school, how do you think she's going to react to finding out I'm-"

"Bonnie? Why was mum shouting?"

They both whipped around at the new voice from the doorway. There was a little boy maybe about twelve years old wearing pyjamas covered in dragons and rubbing his eyes sleepily as he looked at them. Then he stared harder at Marcy's face and frowned in recognition.

"Hey, I know you! You're that mean Slytherin Chaser girl, you bully my big sister!" he announced angrily.

"Neddy, no, we're friends. This is Marceline, she's gonna be hanging out with me some from time to time. And Marcy, this is Neddy, my little brother." Bonnie explained.

"I'm a Ravenclaw too." the boy announced proudly. "Bon, what's Team Queer? I didn't think you played Quidditch."

Bonnie sighed and cast a glare at Marceline who was still sprawled on her bed. The Slytherin got the message loud and clear; _this is your fault_.

"Neddy, come in and close the door. I'm gonna tell you something really important and I'm not ready to tell mum yet, so I don't want her to hear. Can you keep a secret?" she asked him in a gentle voice. He nodded and shut the door, coming to sit at the other end of the bed to Marceline and eyeing her like she might bite.

"Ok, so, you know how you like Pesephone Fortescue and want to ask her to Honeydukes with you next year?"

"Bonnie, shut up! Why don't you just take out an ad in the Daily Prophet and tell everyone?"

"Listen, I'm only bringing it up because I want you to understand. I like girls, too. Marceline is my girlfriend."

"And the Fortescues are a super good family to marry into, her uncle has that ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley. Free ice cream for life." Marceline added with a winsome smile. Neddy just stared at her.

"So you... you, kissed my sister?" he asked in horror.

"Yes, I did. Many times."

"Neddy," Bonnie interrupted before they could continue that line of conversation, "do you disapprove?"

He stared at them both, face scrunched in thought and eyes wary like he expected them to yell 'Surprise! Got you!' at any second. Both women held their breath, waiting to see what the boy said. Finally he shook his head.

"No, I don't disapprove. She's really pretty, Bon. I see why you want to kiss her. But _you_ ," he fixed Marceline with what he probably thought was a threatening stare,"you be good to my sister or I'll hunt you down and make you sorry you were born."

"Deal." Marceline replied breezily. "You, uh, care to swear an Unbreakable Vow on that? A gentleman like yourself must be as good as his word, right?"

"Sure, how do we do it?"

"No. Neddy, no Unbreakable Vows, what the hell? Marcy, stop messing with my brother, he's just a kid." Bonnie told them both, frowning at them. It was unnerving to see her brother and her girlfriend bonding over freaking her out, more so when they both turned matching innocent expressions to her.

"Bonnie, can I ask you something about your girlfriend though?" Neddy asked.

"I'm sitting _right here,_ you could ask me directly." Marceline told him. Neddy shrugged.

"Ok then. How do you do sex with two girls? Because mum gave me The Talk before I went for my first year at Hogwarts and she didn't say anything about how to do it without any boy parts."

Marceline's grin grew wide and just a touch malevolent. Bonnie had a premonition that if she wanted to keep Neddy onside about her secret relationship then she'd need to intervene very quickly.

"We don't, women can't have sex without a man involved. We just cuddle and kiss." she told him hurriedly.

"But-"

"No more questions, Neddy. Go to bed, it's really late."

One day, Marcy reflected, little Neddy was going to find out his sister lied to him. And she'd know when that day was because suddenly the boy wouldn't be able to look her in the eye. She grinned to herself as he sloped reluctantly away to his own bedroom. Sometimes Bonnie was downright Slytherin.

...

It wasn't the way Bonnie had wanted to introduce Marceline to her family home, crammed onto the single bed in her childhood bedroom while her mother slept in the room next to theirs and her little brother was right across the hall asking inappropriate questions about their sex life. But she had to admit, it was pretty wonderful to drift off with her arms wrapped tight around her girlfriend even if she'd had to run a little interference and tell her mum they were having an impromptu girly sleepover. She was on the wrong side of awake when a thought struck her and she shook the snoring woman in her arms.

"Hey, Marcy." Bonnie whispered. "Wake up. You did the transformation, I know what kind of bat you are."

"Huh?"

"I know what kind of bat you are and why you had so much trouble getting the final stages of the Animagus right. You're _Pteropus giganteus._ The Indian Flying Fox. I knew I'd seen that sort of bat before, I bought some books once you started getting bat wings."

"Bullshit! I'm a terrifying vampire bat!"

"No, look. _Accio Bats Of The World! Lumos!_ There, that's you!"

Marceline sat up and stared in horror at the picture illuminated by her girlfriend's wand light. The dark brown leathery wings were the same, the fuzzy pointed face and long ears were so familiar even though she was certain she'd never seen them before in her life. Dammit, she was a fucking flying fox.

"Motherfucker." Marceline whispered. "Why am I a fruit bat? What the hell?"

"I still think you're terrifying." Bonnie grinned. Marceline glowered at her.

"is it actually a biological necessity for you to suck the fun out of everything for me?" she asked sulkily.

"Aww, don't pout. You're cute, why is it surprising that your Animagus form is cute too? Why are bats stigmatised as being creepy anyway? Look at you, you're fluffy and adorable. Like a teeny little fuzz dragon but instead of breathing fire you squeak and snuggle. My little sky puppy."

"Shut up or I will make you forget how to speak." Marcy growled. In the gloom of weak wandglow Bonnie wasn't sure if she was joking or not but she was curious to see exactly what Marceline had in mind so with an impish smile she reached out and slid a hand under the other woman's borrowed t-shirt.

"Is my little sky puppy sulking?" she teased. "You know what Indian Flying Foxes eat, right? Mostly they find nectar rich flowers and use their long, dextrous tongue to lap the sweet sugar right out. They're very resourceful with their mouths."

"That is possibly the worst come-on I've ever heard. Are you trying to get me to go down on you right here in your tiny bed in your mother's house? With your little brother across the hall innocently thinking we're just cuddling like a pair of friendly nuns in here?"

"Yes, yes I am. I mean, they're not in the room with us, right?"

"You're incorrigible, Sugar."

"And you talk too much. You know it's rude to keep a lady waiting."

It was rude, Marcy reasoned. And she wasn't going to let anyone accuse her of being rude, not when she had her pureblood dignity and honour to uphold. Besides sliding her girlfriend's panties down and off and feeling the way slim fingers wrapped into her hair when her lips made contact was her favourite thing in the world to do. As little as she wanted to admit it the redhead might have a point about her Animagus and their dexterous tongue because if the flying foxes loved the flower's nectar half as much as she loved her girlfriend's own sweetness then really she could live with that being her animal form. It was always over too quickly for her and as much as her urgent pulse wanted to her back away and receive some attention in return she allowed the redhead a second or two to catch her breath before pressing her face back into warm, welcoming flesh and indulging herself again. This time was even quicker and it was hard for Bonnie to keep her gasps quiet; as much as Marceline would have loved to keep going all night she was quickly learning her girlfriend's limits and allowed herself to be gently tugged back up the bed once the shivering body beneath her stilled and the grip on her hair loosened.

"I love doing that." Marcy whispered into the darkness around lazy, messy kisses.

"Mm, no complaints here." Bonnie whispered back with a sated grin. "Maybe you should come tuck me in more often."

"Maybe you should move out of your mother's house and we can get someplace we don't need to whisper. You know you've got to be careful using magic around here until your brother's Trace breaks so it's not like you can even use a silencing charm on the door. I can help you find a place, somewhere away from these vampire-infested woods and all those vile little muggle houses-"

"Or you can shut up and stop insulting my culture. And take your panties off, I'm still too worked up to deal with your bullshit."

Obliging Bonnie seemed to be turning into something of a habit and Marceline couldn't really say she minded at all. Especially not when her wonderful girlfriend left her equally breathless and mind blown a few minutes later then didn't even allow her a second or two to recover in between, just kept going with her incredible mouth until Marcy was forced to cram a pillow over her face to avoid making too much noise.

"Marcy?" Bonnie whispered again when their hearts had both calmed into a regular rhythm and they'd kissed and stroked through their respective afterglows.

"Nerd?"

"Why are you so scared of vampires?"

She sighed and pressed her face forward into Bonnie's hair, breathing in her scent and trying to think of a way to explain that didn't make her sound ridiculous.

"It's dumb. When I was a kid my mum died one night and I'd just been reading a book about vampires and... Daddy told me she had a heart condition we didn't know about and it just stopped beating. He found her in the garden next morning, lying just like she was asleep. But for some reason my dumb seven year old brain thought a vampire had killed her, even though I know there's barely any in Britain anymore. And then on my very first night in the Slytherin dorms back in first year Lydia told this stupid ghost story about a vampire girl who didn't know what she was until she woke up with blood around her mouth and all her friends were dead. And I thought, what if I'm the vampire? What if I killed my mum and didn't even know? It's dumb, like I said. But I was a kid and I was scared."

"You're not a secret vampire." Bonnie told her confidently, hugging her tighter.

"I know. I'm a fruit bat. But something was definitely out there in the woods watching me."

"Probably a ghost. Those woods are famously haunted, I bet they were just curious about you. The pub in the village is even called The Headless Highwayman, we're famously haunted here. Mum thinks that's why me and Neddy have magic, we moved here just before she got pregnant with me."

"Yeah, probably just a dumb ghost trying to frighten me." Marcy agreed tiredly. In the warm embrace of her girlfriend with the rhythmic tick of a clock on the wall and soft sheets wrapped around her it was very difficult to remember how real that terror of the undead had been earlier in the night. Marceline fell asleep soon after and her dreams were untroubled by fangs or blood sucking of any kind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Here we are at chapter three and I'm going to go right ahead and apologise, first of all for the delay in posting and then secondly for the horrible cliffhanger at the end. If you enjoy this chapter I want to hear about it! Hit me with a review, let me know what you think of it and what you think is about to happen. Authors need love from their wonderful readers.**

 **If anyone's a fan of X rated kinkiness then head on over to my goodbuddy abelmayfair's page and check out our collaboration fic, Follow Me Home. Fair warning though, there's graphic sex and stuff from the very beginning and it's only going to get worse from there. I hope you enjoy it anyway, it was a really nice project to help with.**

 **Content Warning: demons, idea seeding, foreshadowing, darkness, implied injury.**

* * *

Most everyone else was staring in various shades of terror at the seven foot tall demon standing centre stage holding a guitar that looked like a toy in his over-sized hands. Marceline just rolled her eyes.

"Mordecai Nosferatovich?" she asked sceptically.

"That's right." the demon ground out in a voice like thunder breaking. "I have travelled to your puny, flesh-bound dimension from the bowels of the underworld to try out with your mortal rock band. Hear my fury!"

It wasn't the worst guitar solo she'd ever heard. It also wasn't the best. And it was something of a giveaway when the demon tried to leap into the air during a particularly tricky chord progression, tripped on their own feet and landed in a heap.

"You know I know it's you, right Tonks?" Marcy sighed, going to help the girl up. Demon horns and scaled crimson skin disappeared and she shrank back down to her normal thirteen year old height sheepishly.

"I know, but I thought you might take me more seriously if I looked the part." she replied huffily. "Come on Marcy, at least let me try out!"

"The advert said no underage kids. I'm not being responsible for your safety at the kinda venues we'd play. Besides how are you gonna make practices if you're stuck in school?"

"But if the band got famous I could quit school!"

"Sweetie, you tried to be seven feet tall in a five feet robe. You didn't even take off your rainbow bunny socks first. Those socks don't even match. No offence, the band isn't going to get famous if we're not all a hundred per cent committed to it. Go finish school and then we'll talk, see if you still want to get into the music business. You never know, you might want to a research academic or an auror or something." Marcy added kindly.

"Pfft, like I'd ever make an auror." Tonks scoffed.

"You'd ace the disguise and stealth module for sure though, I bet you'd be awesome at it. Talk to Finn, he's an auror apprentice, right?" Marcy asked as she escorted the girl to the door.

She had a lot of time for Nymphadora Tonks, it didn't hurt that Jake's mother was her father's cousin so they'd immediately formed a little dynasty when she'd been sorted into Hufflepuff. And Jake had been one of Marceline's best friends outside of Slytherin House, he always went out of his way to make people feel at ease. His younger half cousin was a nice girl and her impressions of Snape were solid gold, Marcy had always had a smile for Tonks when they'd passed in the school corridors.

"Ok, next!" Marcy called when Tonks had disappeared back out onto Diagon Alley. There weren't many people gathered in the back room of The Leaky Cauldron and she was worried about finding enough serious musicians to really get the ball rolling. A mousy haired woman about her own age stepped forward, also clutching a guitar.

"Hi, I'm Keila Morgana le Fay, I wanted to try out on the guitar too." she announced. Marcy nodded and motioned to the spotlight before sliding into a seat next to her friend and drummer Bonaventura 'Bongo' Bamonte.

"She better be halfway decent or I'm seriously thinking we'll have to reconsider." Bongo muttered to Marceline as Keila fiddled with her guitar for a moment. Marcy didn't have time to reply before a wall of intense sound hit them and she grinned. Yeah, the mousy haired woman was more than just halfway decent.

"You were saying?" Marcy smirked. Then she turned to Keila and raised her voice a little. "There's our guitarist! Welcome aboard. Now, since I'm bass as well as vocals I think just the three of us could-"

"Scuse me."

She turned, confused by the interruption. It was a greasy looking man with a pimply face and a thin attempt at a goatee beard hanging patchily from his chin. Marceline stared at him.

"I, uh, do you know how many rock bands are using keyboards these days? I mean, muggle rock bands sure, but they're the innovators. Right? I thought, if it's ok, maybe I could try out with my keyboard and see what you think?" he asked uncertainly. Marceline and Bongo shared a sceptical glace but he shrugged and she wasn't in any position to take issue with a muggle innovation.

"Have we met?" she asked instead, determined not to lose control of the situation completely.

"Guy Parker, I was two years ahead of you in school. You don't remember me? I was Slytherin, too." he explained.

"Parker… I, uh, sorry. Any relative of the Parkinsons?" Marcy tried hopefully.

"Nah. I'm muggleborn, kept to myself so it's not surprising you don't remember me. Anyway, uh, I'll just play some stuff for you?"

Muggleborn, well that explained the weird name. Marceline exchanged a glance with Bongo, but there was no denying that Guy was talented. And it might add some extra depth to their sound to have some keyboards. Marceline prided herself on being a stylish witch who had experience of many cultures, she'd heard keyboard music before one time in a muggle music shop when she'd sneaked out into muggle London with Lydia on their pre-Hogwarts shopping trip the year before. Guy finished with a flourish and smiled up hopefully.

"Pretty impressive, Parkinson."

"Parker."

"Sorry, Parker. So yeah, I think we can put some keyboards into our sound. We'll give it a try anyway. So now we just need a name. Any ideas?"

An hour later the newly formed Scream Queens exited the Leaky Cauldron, already discussing how they were going to work keyboards into their sound. Marceline had a feeling, like she was definitely going to go all the way and make it as a rock star.

…

There was something strange happening at Moor House, Marceline decided. Stranger than usual, and that was saying a lot. Someone had been in her room and touched her stuff, someone who wasn't a house elf because they would never mess with her personal belongings. And Hunson was far too disinterested in her life to go through her Hogwarts trunk and rifle through the pages of all her notebooks and personal paperwork. Somebody had been looking for something and they'd been in her room touching her stuff. It made her furious. So she strode down the hall to her father's study, intent on ranting at him about security until he took her seriously and admitted something was going on-

Marceline woke slowly, unwilling to give up the warmth of her bed just yet. Besides, Hunson was away on business that morning and she'd instructed the elves not to wake her, for the first time since she'd returned home from Hogwarts she'd finally slept all night long and woken naturally instead of being obliged to take a stupidly early breakfast with her father. She stretched and yawned, vaguely wondering if Bonnie would object to hanging out short notice that day, when her hand encountered a little slip of folded parchment under her pillow. Marceline sat up curiously and squinted at the four words scribbled hastily in her own handwriting.

 _You need to remember_

That was… she shook her head, trying to clear the sleep fog from her brain and concentrate on what the hell was happening. Who was messing with her memory, remember what? Who was leaving little notes for her about the place? And, in her own handwriting, exactly like she'd written it to herself because she knew she was going to forget something. Something important, like there was a conspiracy and she'd been scared of whoever it was getting to her and erasing her memory of it-

A crash from downstairs had her leaping out of bed in panic and sprinting from the room with a surge of adrenaline. She got to the breakfast room out of breath and jumpy, wand out at the ready.

"Who's there?" Marcy called, staring around at the empty room. "Show yourself! Or so help me Merlin, I'll hex your fucking balls off!"

"Just me, mistress. Just Peppermint cleaning up. I is sorry for waking you, miss." He shuffled into view from the other side of the table holding a broken serving platter and a wearing a sheepish expression. "Is there something Peppermint can help with, little mistress? Some breakfast, perhaps, or clean robes to change into?"

"No. I, uh, I'm not hungry. You dropped a plate?" she asked suspiciously. House elves didn't drop things, and if they ever did they'd just repair them immediately. This was too out of character, it had to be a cover up of some kind. Whatever was happening Peppermint was in on it too. And that meant Hunson knew about it because his elf couldn't cover something up without his direct approval as Master. So her father was screwing with her memory, or at least giving his blessing to whoever was doing it. The implications of that were beyond disturbing; Marceline felt light headed with horror like she was about to pass out any second. She had to get away, she decided. Had to figure out what the fuck was going on.

"I is getting clumsy in my old age, mistress." Peppermint replied meekly. Marceline stared at him, trying to catch his eye, but she was uncomfortably aware that every second she spent trying to figure out why he was lying to her or what about she might be exposing herself to more danger.

"I'm going out for the day, I'll be home late. Or I might stay out. I haven't decided. If my father comes home when I'm gone… I dunno, tell him I'm busy. If he even asks, the man's more distant than ever these days. I gotta go."

Someone else was in the house, she was certain of it, and if Peppermint realised that she knew she might find her memory of their conversation mysteriously missing, too. Marceline made a decision and swallowed down the fear trying to force its way into her chest.

She turned and strode back up the stairs, thinking hard and staring around herself at every shadow and open doorway. Bonnie was at work, probably. Would this really qualify as a medical emergency? But _something_ had happened, why would anyone wipe her memory unless they were scared of her remembering something? And that opened up a whole world of fears, would she be able to tell if someone had done something disgusting without her consent? Surely she'd know? But if someone had _touched her_ \- she shuddered in horror at the thought- if it had caused any damage and they'd healed her with magic afterwards, she wouldn't even be sore the next day. There was only one way to tell and that meant swallowing her pride and going to the Healers. Or it might be a prank, Merlin, she hoped so hard that it was a stupid prank. Someone messing with her for a laugh, Jake or someone. Deep down she knew even then that it was deadly serious though.

For half a second Marceline thought she heard a sound behind herself and whirled, ready to throw every curse and hex she knew at whoever was following her. But the hall was empty. It must have been the ever present moor winds rattling the windows. Even still, once she got back to her bedroom Marceline dressed as quickly as possible before sprinting out of the house as quickly as her feet would carry her, ignoring the light summer rain that had nevertheless soaked right through her thin robe before she was beyond the wards and able to apparate.

…

"Check it again."

"There's nothing, no sign of any other living thing touching your skin for the last three days except for on your hands and shoulder. And before that, it was me. Nobody knocked you out, touched you inappropriately and then wiped your memories. I promise. Although I guess I'm glad to know there's no trace of anyone else's lips but mine on you."

"Bon, it's not funny! I'm serious, someone is screwing with my memories and if they didn't do it to get their disgusting hands on me then what the fuck did they do instead?"

Well, Bonnie supposed, sooner or later things were bound to get real in their relationship. And comforting her distraught girlfriend in a private side room at St Mungos while she sobbed her heart out over the possibility of someone wiping memories of physical abuse was about as real as it got.

"What if my father-"

"No. There's no trace of touch on you, Hunson hasn't been within five feet of you in almost a week and there's no recent male trace at all except for where you shook hands with that keyboard guy. Baby, please try not to worry. I know what I'm doing with these kind of spells, they're very sensitive. The last time anyone or anything was near you in any intimate context was three days ago and it was _me,_ you've not even put your hands on yourself in that way since." Bonnie soothed. She found herself at a loss for anything else to say other than baldly repeating the facts. Those would be a comfort to her if their situations were reversed, anyway.

"You can tell that?" Marcy sniffed, looking up at her with eyes half hopeful and half terrified still.

"Yeah, I can tell that. Like I said, these spells are specifically designed for this and they're really sensitive. Someone couldn't have done anything to you without your consent and hide it from even the newest Healer apprentice, this is literally the stuff I had to learn to pass the application process. Maybe someone has been screwing with your memories but they weren't doing it to abuse you, at least not physically."

"So then, why would anyone do it? What was it for?"

"I don't know, sweetie. I'm sorry. Are you sure you didn't just have a really vivid dream or something?"

Marceline paused, beginning to doubt herself. Maybe she was being paranoid, maybe nothing was going on after all. Perhaps she'd just dreamed that someone had fucked with her trunk, it didn't look any different than usual when she'd looked at it that morning. But she was so certain something wasn't right. Somewhere she knew something was missing in her head and it meant something bad.

"I did have a couple of drinks with the band before I got home." she admitted uncertainly. "But I was fine, Bon, I promise. I wasn't drunk."

"This sounds a lot like a muggle thing I've come across before, drugs called roofies. If someone put some muggle medicine in your drink and you apparated home, it might not have affected you until you were already back there. And you could have taken yourself to bed without remembering it this morning because the drugs affected you. It's a stupid thing to do especially if you're trying to drug a witch because muggle medicine doesn't always interact with our bodies in the same way, our natural magic tries to block it and reverse any harm it thinks the medicine is doing. So maybe you had a bad reaction to something you drank. It's not outside the realms of possibility."

"I know you're trying to make me feel better, Bonnie, but this isn't working. You don't believe me? Fine. I don't need to put up with this, not from you."

"Marcy!"

But she was up and shouldering open the door angrily before the redhead could get another word out.

"Fine. Storm off then, God forbid some inconvenient facts get in the way of you milking this for every last drop of drama you can possibly get from it." Bonnie muttered angrily to herself. Whatever, she figured. She was exhausted, she had plenty to do that involved treating actual sick people instead of indulging her girlfriend in some juvenile victim fantasy she'd invented to relieve her boredom. More than likely Marceline had been much drunker than she realised or some muggleborn had thought it would be funny to slip something into her drink. There was exactly zero evidence that anything else had happened to her. And why would anyone go to the effort of wiping Marceline's memories only to leave her comfortable and safe in her own bed without ever coming close enough to her to be picked up by the sexual assault scanning charms? For half a moment Bonnie wondered if those charms were tuned just to humans or if house elves would trigger them too. Didn't Marceline's father have a couple of elves and one in particular who was his personal assistant? But she dismissed it out of hand. Why would Hunson do anything to hurt his only child? He'd already established that he cared about his bloodline obsessively, it was out of character for him to raise his wand against his daughter or command his elf to harm her in any way. The possibility that Marceline had stumbled onto some sort of dark plot crossed her mind but again Bonnie shook her head. That made no sense, their world was at peace now. The Dark Lord had vanished right about the time she was in her first year at Hogwarts and as anti-muggle as he was Hunson had always reserved a deep loathing for death eaters, Marceline had assured her that pretty much the moment they'd started dating. Bonnie sighed and went to fill in yet another patient processing form. Just because her girlfriend's frequent visits to the hospital were an annoying distraction didn't mean she got out of the inevitable paperwork that was caused by Marceline insisting on being seen as a patient.

...

It was only nine but Bonnie was asleep already. She had to be in work for five the next morning and there were only so many doses of pepper-up she could take before it lost its effectiveness. Besides one of the first things she'd learned in Ravenclaw House was that if she wanted to study efficiently then one of the most important things to do was keep a healthy, regular sleep schedule. So when the portable floo grate she kept in the corner of her room woke her by flaring into life her first thought was that with all the other crap Marceline had pulled that day she was seriously going to have to reconsider if being in a relationship was compatible with being a Healer. But when she squinted at the flames it was Billy's head that was staring back at her.

"What's wrong? An emergency?" Bonnie asked, already sliding from bed and throwing a robe over her pyjamas.

"Woah, slow down, rookie. Just what we think is an accidental magic incident that I figured you might want to tag along with. You'll be excused lectures and shadowing tomorrow since this could take all night. If you want to come along, that is. I just thought I'd check in with you first before we charge off into the night."

"Let's go." Bonnie replied briskly. Billy nodded his approval and with a smile his head disappeared from the small fireplace. Bonnie took a pinch of floo powder from the box on her night stand and threw it into the empty grate before calling out her destination. "St Mungo's Hospital!"

The other side of the grate was chaos. There were aurors and obliviators huddled in the corners of the main waiting room and Billy was booming out orders, trying to organise his people as well as everyone else. Plus there were the usual evening patients wandering around getting in everyone's way.

"Rookie! Over here!" Billy called when he saw a streak of pale red weaving through the mayhem. Bonnie pushed over to his side and tried to look like she hadn't just been woken from a very deep sleep two minutes earlier. "Ok, before we head out we're going to have a real quick briefing. That over there is Mad Eye Moody, don't worry he won't bite unless you give him reason to. We've got some of the lads from the Department of Mysteries heading in too and that bimbling Weasley fellow from Muggle Artifacts. This... I don't know what to tell you, rookie. It feels bigger than your run of the mill accidental magic in a muggle area. The official report is that someone's trace was triggered, some muggleborn kid tried to produce a shielding and blasting charm in the middle of a muggle park. Probably showing off to his muggle friends, there's one every year. But he's not responding to any attempts at contact so there's a chance he could be hurt. That's why they're assembling an emergency medical team, or so the official version goes."

"So, what's the unofficial version?" Bonnie asked in a quiet voice, glancing around to make sure nobody was listening.

"Unofficially? I dunno, Sugar. Looks like we might be dealing with some sort of dark incident. Muggleborn kids used to get attacked all the time before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fell. I doubt you'll remember too much of the reports but it was a damn war zone out there. That's why the full cross-agency task force is being put together." Billy replied. Bonnie shivered, she remembered enough from her first year at Hogwarts and the horror stories from older students.

"Yeah, I remember some of it. But, you don't think death eaters are involved?"

"It could be anything, if the aurors have any idea they're not sharing. We've got some creep from the Department For Control And Regulation Of Magical Creatures mixed up in this too so let's hope we're not heading into anything less than fully human. Here, take your emergency portkey. Just tap it with your wand and say _portus_ if you end up in over your head and it'll bring you right back here. Ready? Ok, let's go. I'll side-along you."

Bonnie swallowed down her fear and nodded. She had just enough time to catch Finn's eye as he waved from across the room at her in his auror apprentice uniform before Billy grabbed hold of her shoulders and the squeeze of apparation took her breath away.

...

A muggle park, he'd said. Technically it was a park, Bonnie had to agree on that. It was just the biggest goddamn park she'd ever seen in her life. She traipsed after Billy with her wand lit, scanning the ground for any kind of disturbance or any evidence at all that they weren't just out in the middle of the night looking for nothing.

"You see anything, rookie?" Billy asked after a while. He sounded tense and frustrated. Bonnie was about to reply that she hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary when a flash of silver caught her eye and she whirled instinctively.

" _Reducto!_ " Bonnie screamed before she even got a chance to take in what she was seeing. It didn't matter anyway, her spell passed right through the misty silver fox galloping across the dark round to them. Before she had too much of an opportunity for embarrassment at being startled by a patronus charm the fox had sat on its hind quarters and fixed Billy with a worried expression.

"Shanley, you better get over to the side of the duck pond. We've found the boy, what's left of him. Code silver. Send your apprentice to wait at the rendezvous point, this is officially beyond anything a rookie can handle." the fox told him in a rush before getting up and trotting off towards a band of trees to their left.

Billy turned to Bonnie and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"You heard her. That's a message from Canyon, one of the aurors. Her and I go back a long way, she wouldn't say it was outside of your skill set if she didn't genuinely think so. I have to go, wait at the park entrance and help the junior aurors reinforce the muggle repelling charms. We'll be bringing through either a highly contagious casualty or a body. We'll debrief at the hospital. Go on, rookie."

Then he took off at a sprint after the silver fox patronus, leaving Bonnie alone in the darkness before she had a chance to even ask him what a code silver was or if she could just stay back and watch. For a long moment she hesitated, staring out into the gloom and wondering exactly how much trouble she'd be in if she disobeyed and followed. But Bonnie had dreamed of being a Healer since she was eleven and discovered that there was such a thing as a magical doctor. All of her classes had been chosen to get her into the field and she'd sacrificed more spare time than she could even calculate over the years to studying and reading about medicine and health care and how wizarding maladies different from muggle illnesses. So in the end there was only one course of action she could take if she didn't want to risk jeopardizing all of her hard work and study. She turned and walked slowly back through the darkness towards the park entrance.

It was a big park. And apparently the path twisted and branched a few times. After a while Bonnie began to worry that she was walking the wrong way. But the glow of street lights off in the distance meant the entrance was that way, right? It must do. She'd been so busy scanning the ground with Billy that she hadn't been paying attention to the exact route they'd taken through the winding lawns and clumps of trees. But there was the bandstand, she'd passed that on her way in. Or... was it on the same side? Was she walking in the wrong direction? Bonnie paused, trying to figure out if it had been on her left or right on the way in. There was always the emergency portkey but she didn't know if she might get in trouble for using that, and besides Billy had told her to go wait with the auror apprentices and help keep the muggles away. If she gave up and went to the hospital she might struggle to apparate back to the park and then Billy would worry because he couldn't find her. Besides it wasn't too dark once her eyes were fully adjusted to the night. There was a full moon sailing overhead and she could hear the distant rumble of traffic so she must be somewhere close to the park entrance. Bonnie looked around herself again and decided to take a calculated risk. She was completely certain that she was on the wrong side of the bandstand and there must be another path running parallel to her own past there, the path that led to the entrance. Instead of following the path she was on and hoping it took her in the right direction she'd just cross the lawn between the two paths and get back to the main walkway. It seemed simple enough. So with her wand drawn Bonnie set off across the grass.

There was the main path, right where she'd reasoned it would be. And she could see the shapes of the auror apprentices way up ahead from her position on the little wooded ridge next to the bandstand. Right, so it was a simple case of just following the path and-

A noise from behind her had Bonnie whirling in sudden fright and she only had a split second to react before a flurry of teeth whirled towards her. Ever the Ravenclaw, somewhere a tiny part of her mind was still functioning through the cascade of fear that turned her limbs to jelly and she remembered thinking, _oh, code silver. Well that makes sense._ Then there were fangs at her throat and a bubbling scream leaving her lips and the night turned red.


	4. Chapter 4

**You know what's difficult? Thinking of a name for a house elf that would also imply they're a citizen of Lumpy Space and which isn't Brad or Melissa. So I present you with my lamest creation to date, Lumpitt the house elf. Seriously. I spent too long trying to figure out what to call a very minor character. You say 'detail obsessed perfectionist' like it's a bad thing. I'm not happy with it but there ya go, there's only so long I can keep agonizing over what to call LSP's dad's elf who will be briefly mentioned in all of one scene.**

 **Theories! Expectations! Throw them all out of t'window, I'm going completely off script with what you're expecting from the in-universe canon stuff. What fun would a story be if you already knew exactly what was going to happen to the characters? And what point in putting them in an AU if they're just going to play through the same over-done scripts again and again just wearing different outfits? Plus the mystery is only part solved here.**

 **Content warning: reveals, Slytherin sneakiness, sex.**

* * *

Ithiel Pendragon surveyed the scene before him with a scowl of displeasure. There was his daughter asleep like she'd just fallen down and passed out where she stood, there was her best friend draped across their lounge floor like an Abadeer-skin rug also asleep and snoring like she had no intention of ever waking again. They were surrounded by empty firewhiskey bottles and dirty crockery. There was even an axe shaped guitar of some kind lovingly laid across the sofa like its owner had been very careful that it shouldn't get damaged. Ithiel had had enough. No more all-night parties, no matter how they silence-charmed the room. No more curls of long, ink-black hair clogging up his shower, no more laundry room full of bras and panties or mysterious extra vanities covered in make up and hair tonics and Merlin knew what else. He was done with letting the Abadeer heir board with them for no good reason. With a frown he went to the window and released his owl into the morning air.

"Take the letter to Abadeer Senior, Galahad." he instructed the bird, and it swooped away with the parchment gripped in its talons without a backwards glance. The letter simply said;

 _Abadeer,_

 _Your daughter has trespassed on our hospitality long enough. Please be so kind as to collect her before gossip begins to spread._

 _I. G. H. Pendragon._

Gossip was already spreading, though, and it was mostly thanks to his own daughter and wife. Something about someone stalking her at home, about a ghost or a vampire or the ghost of a vampire, he hadn't been paying attention to Lydia's rambling explanation. Of course when the girl had first arrived claiming there was something wrong at her father's home they'd been more than happy to put her up for a while, just until she'd contacted her paramour and located more suitable lodgings. But it seemed the young Healer apprentice she'd been engaged in a romantic exchange with had disappeared off the face of the planet and for Marceline's sake Ithiel was privately glad. Hunson would not take kindly to his daughter being entangled with a mudblood, especially not a low-born working class one. If this Sugar girl had been the daughter of royalty or titled nobility he just might have overlooked her poor genetics but from what he'd been able to gather she was the eldest of a bastard, fatherless brood who lived in one of the run down warrens of muggle degradation that serviced a coal mine. The Pendragons might be almost as poor as Weasleys now that they'd lost his father's money but he'd be damned before he'd cheapen their honour by working for a living like some common halfblood with no dowry or inheritance. There was no way Hunson Abadeer, richer than a king and with twice the influence of a Malfoy, would allow his heir to rut with a penniless mudblood. Still, Ithiel would have taken the shame of being tangentially linked to a muggleborn if it got Marceline off his sofa.

"Lumpitt." he ordered, and in an instant his house elf was by his side. "Wake the girls and serve them breakfast, ease their hangovers and make sure Abadeer is fit to receive guests. She needs to be dressed and clean, not stinking like a brewery. But do not tell her that I have summoned her father."

"Yes, Master." Lumpitt responded meekly with a low bow. Ithiel strode from the room and back to his desk to draft another letter to the Wizengammot about next month's Gringotts hearing. With any luck her just might be able to get his fortune back.

...

"Anyway that's when I just apparated out of there. You understand, right Mrs Sugar?"

"I... maybe? Your father doesn't take your security concerns seriously and your friend's father was sick of you sleeping on his sofa? So instead of staying and talking it through with them you, uh, disappeared out of the air and reappeared here." she tried.

"Yeah, pretty much. And look, I tried to firecall Bonnie- it's where you put your head in a magic fire and talk to someone- but I guess she's been working or whatever or still mad at me because we sorta had a bit of a fight. But, uh, look can I just wait for her to get home? And I'll explain it all to her direct. I promise I won't be any trouble."

It wasn't that Mrs Sugar minded her daughter's strange witch friends dropping by. She even rather liked those boys Finn and Jake who'd come by a few times, they seemed wholesome and kindhearted. But Marceline Abadeer was another type altogether. She was quite tall for a girl, slender and athletic looking like she took pains to keep herself in shape. And she had eyes that seemed just that bit too intense, eyes that seemed to stand out from her keen features and saw too much about a person at a glance. And there was something about the way those eyes had lit up for a split-second when she'd opened the door then darkened when she realised Bonnie wasn't there. The older woman didn't quite understand what emotion had lit Marceline's eyes for that moment but by instinct she didn't trust it. Still, it wasn't like she could just lie to her daughter's friend. And if she didn't know already then maybe they weren't even so close, maybe this Marceline girl was more of an acquaintance.

"Bonnie moved out almost a month ago, she said she needed to be somewhere closer to work. I suppose she found a place around Diagon Alley or somewhere in London."

"Do you have her new address?"

"I have a forwarding address for her mail, she said she needs to fix the place up before she receives visitors. But if you go to the hospital I'm sure she'll still be there, she works long hours."

Marceline thanked her girlfriend's mother and woodenly allowed herself to be shown to the door. No, Bonnie wouldn't just fucking move away without telling her, right? She'd always assumed they'd get a place together eventually, some nice bright cottage somewhere that they could fill with light and laughter, somewhere that was the direct opposite of Moor House and the atmosphere of permanent mourning that had pervaded the Abadeer ancestral home since the night her mother had died. Was this a break up? Had Bonnie just left and assumed Marceline would know what it meant? And then there was that same sensation of eyes following her movements that she'd not felt in all the time she'd been crashing at Lyds' place and out of panic Marceline apparated right there from the Sugars' doorstep, not even caring if the neighbors saw.

She reappeared with a _pop_ in the main reception of St Mungos and with her bad mood rising Marceline stormed to the front desk.

"I need to see Healer Sugar." she announced impatiently to the bumbling bald man behind the desk.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"Don't bullshit me, my name is Marceline Abadeer, yes _Abadeer_ , and I _insist_ you get her down here right now!"

"Miss, I don't know why you-"

"Are you deaf or just stupid? Get Bonnibel Sugar here _now_ or so help me Merlin-"

"Healer Sugar left our employment a month ago." a new voice announced before she could pull out her wand and hex the stupid receptionist into a thousand steaming pieces. Marceline whirled and found herself face to face with the huge Healer that Bonnie had been shadowing. He was easily over seven feel tall and obviously had some giant blood in his family somewhere but Marcy didn't have time to be intimidated by him. Bonnie had left the hospital? No, that was her dream job. Something must have happened and Marceline abruptly realised that she'd been so caught up in her own drama that she'd never considered that maybe the reason Bonnie hadn't contacted her was because something had happened. It felt like a strange mix between her blood running cold and being slapped in the face.

"Why?" she managed to croak out.

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss out staffing policies. If Miss Sugar hasn't explained the situation to you herself then the conclusion I draw is that she doesn't want you to know." he replied coolly.

"Bullshit. I want to know why she quit. Something happened to her, something's been going on with both of us since graduation and this is part of it, I know it. Tell me. What happened?" It came out as a snarl but Marceline couldn't find the energy to care. She was tired of everyone thinking she was paranoid, tired of unexplained things happening around her. And now Bonnie was _missing_ , because she refused to believe the redhead would just quit her dream job for no reason, and nobody was doing a damn thing about it. Obviously this halfbreed Healer wasn't going to tell her anything and before he'd even drawn breath to reply Marceline turned on her heel and strode away. If he wouldn't tell her anything then she'd go to someone who would, someone she'd successfully intimidated plenty of times who had to take her seriously. She closed her eyes, concentrated on the Auror's office at the Ministry of Magic and felt the squeeze of apparation pull her away.

...

"I can't tell you."

"Finn, I'll break your fucking legs."

"I might lose my job! I can't!"

His round, earnest face was gazing at her imploringly and Marceline rolled her eyes. There were some drawbacks to relying on a Gryffindor for information and most of those drawbacks had to do with their annoying code of morals. If Finn's stupid oath to uphold his Auror's Code prevented him from telling her what she needed to know then Marceline would just have to Slytherin it out of him. How hard could it be?

"So, I guess I'll just see you at the surprise party then?" she started carefully. Finn's brow creased and he leaned further across his cluttered desk to hear her over the general din of the Auror's office.

"What surprise party?" he asked suspiciously.

"The one we were gonna throw for Jake and Lady's engagement?"

"They got engaged?" Finn yelped in shock.

"Yeah, last week! Jake didn't ask you to be best man? Oh. I mean, I'm sure he'll ask you at the party. He wouldn't ask Tiffany, for sure." Marcy nodded. She was keeping all of her breath-holding completely internal, waiting for him to get so distracted and outraged at his brother's pretend betrayal that he forgot why she was there. _Come on you brave idiot, take the bait-_

"So wait, are they having the party in the cabin? I thought Bonnie didn't want anyone to come out there?"

 _Atta boy. Pfft. Gryffindors._

"The cabin?" Marceline prompted him with an expression of innocent confusion.

"Yeah, her great-uncle's cabin? I mean, it won't be tonight, right? They wouldn't be dumb enough to hold it _tonight_ , not after she was b- hey!"

"After she was what? Finn! Come on, I swear I'm not above breaking your legs!"

But he was standing up with an angry flush on his cheeks, clearly pissed that she'd managed to weasel even a little information out of him.

"You better get out of my office before I arrest you. Go on, just go. No wonder Bonnie didn't tell you about the accident."

" _What accident?"_

"Out. Now. Honest to Merlin, I will arrest you."

Marceline didn't wait to find out if he really would, she was already out of the door and hurrying along the corridor to the elevators. She needed the hall of records, she needed to look up an address. Because Martyn Gumbol had been Bonnie's great-uncle and he was famous enough to be on a chocolate frog card, Marceline remembered collecting him when she'd been small. Some famous potioneer or something, apparently Bonnie's mostly muggle family did turn out the occasional brilliant witch or wizard every couple of generations which explained the redhead herself. And the location of his cabin would be a matter of public record. All she had to do was sneak into the record files and look it up then she could be on her way. The elevator doors closed on the corridor that lead to the Auror's office and hid a slender, tall girl from view. When they opened a few moments later at the hall of records nobody noticed anything but a thick swarm of the interdepartmental paper plane memos swoop out from the elevator. Maybe if they'd looked closely they'd have noticed a fuzzy brown bat hidden among the planes but nobody was paying attention.

...

Gumbol's cabin was little more than a magically reinforced shack in a swamp and somewhere behind all the worry and panic Marceline was _furious_ at Bonnie for quitting her job and moving out here and not telling anyone. But mostly she was just terrified that something awful must have happened to her girlfriend. Finn obviously knew what it was and he knew she'd come out here to be alone and he still hadn't told Marceline why. That could only mean one of two things; either Bonnie had specifically instructed him not to tell her which obviously made her burn with hurt curiosity or it was something bad enough to be legally bound to his Auror's oath. Either possibility caused cold knots of dread to tighten through her chest and Marceline shivered at what that implied. It was getting dark and the twilight made her jumpy; without the benefit of the full moon that had yet to rise or the last warm curls of daylight that had already seeped from the horizon the first part of the evening was also the darkest and being in the middle of an unfamiliar marsh approaching what looked to be an abandoned shack was not how Marceline wanted to spend her night. She went to knock on the ancient wood of the door but was already open and it swung inwards underneath her hand to lead to a dark room beyond. She pulled out her wand and muttered a quick _Lumos_ before entering silently.

"Bonnie?" Marceline asked in a low voice. "You in here? I know something's up and you've been avoiding me. Come on out and we'll talk. Did someone hurt you? Why'd you leave work?"

There was a crash and a mutter from somewhere below her feet and Marcy whipped around, looking for the door that must lead down to the cellar. It was there on the other side of the dilapidated room and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could just make out the low glow of light coming through the cracks between the planks.

"Bon? Come on, it's just me. Are you hurt?"

"Don't come down here!"

Well, that was an improvement at least. Sounded like whatever else was going on Bonnibel was still alive which Marceline belatedly realised was a huge relief to her.

"Why not? I came all this way to find you, aren't you even gonna talk to me?" she called, creeping slowly towards the door.

"Please, just go away! This isn't safe, I- we're done, ok? We're over. I can't see you anymore. Just, leave!"

"Yeah, no. I don't accept. You don't get to just push me away with zero explanation after a ton of weird shit's been going down. I deserve to know what's going on at least, don't I?"

"There's no time! I can't- can't- _Marceline, just leave! Now!"_

Bonnie's strained voice broke off with a wail of agony and Marcy threw the cellar door open and rushed down the stairs, ready for anything. Except she wasn't. The sight that met her eyes made her stumble in horror and she fell to her knees on the dusty floor of the cellar.

There was a huge metal cage in the centre of the room made from bars thicker than a person's arm. The door was held tight with a heavy padlock and the whole thing gleamed in a familiar and unexpected way in the light of a few charmed candles that hovered in the air. There was only one window and it was barred too, with that same lustrous metal that the cage was made out of. And there in the very middle of the cage, naked as the day she was born, Bonnie twisted with some unspeakable agony.

"Grnn.. no- leave-" she panted between snarls of pain. "Can't stop- don't- Marcy, _please!"_

Marceline belated realised that the cellar window was at exactly the right height to catch the first rays of the full moon as it rose and the part of her mind that had been responsible for her amazing NEWT level results wondered, why have it at all? Does moonlight control the transformation or just speed it up? If she never goes out under the full moon would it still happen? Or would it be more painful, slower? Is she just trying to get it over with by having a window aligned to the full moon?

Bonnie had fallen to her hands and knees and the noises of pain she made were less and less human. As Marceline watched in morbid fascination her knees and elbows cracked, broke, and rearranged themselves into a different configuration. Skin tore and reformed, hair sprouted, fingers retreated into claws and when the redhead screamed next it didn't stop. Her face simply stretched out into a muzzle full of knife sharp fangs. The scream ended in a howl and the hairs on the back of Marceline's neck stood up, although she distantly wondered why she didn't feel more afraid. Probably because the cage was at least coated in pure silver, like the window and probably the back of the cellar doors too. Bonnie was nothing if not thorough and she'd had weeks to figure out how to keep herself contained.

It only took a few seconds but to Marceline it felt like so much longer, probably to Bonnie too except that her consciousness was lost behind the uncontrollable rage of the beast. And for a heartbeat Marceline locked eyes with the amber gaze of the newly transformed werewolf in front of her before it lunged with a snarl and the whole cage trembled despite the silver.

"Oh Bonnie, what happened to you?" Marcy felt herself whisper in shock.

The wolf fell back from the bars with a yelp of pain as the corrosive silver did its job and it let out a howl of frustration, shaking its head like it was trying to dislodge the scent of the hated metal from its nostrils. Bonnie had designed the cage with typical Ravenclaw efficiency; it was definitely up to the task of holding an adult werewolf so long as it had no real reason to try to break out. And a delicious human standing right there on the other side of the cage was about as good as a reason to break out got. As the wolf rounded for another agonizing assault on the silver bars Marceline tried to gather as much courage around her as she could. This was _Bonnie_ , she wasn't some evil beast and she didn't want to be like this. Mrs Sugar had said her daughter had moved out less than a month earlier, was this her first transformation? Marceline's heart filled with sympathy for her girlfriend as the wolf tried to press its snout through the gap in the bars only to fall back with a yelp at the agony of the silver against its flesh.

"I'm going to look after you. You'll see, you don't need to be afraid." Marcy murmured to the wolf as she slid her wand back up her sleeve. It just whined and snarled in response but that was fine, she hadn't expected anything else. A moment later the werewolf sank its teeth deeply into its own flank in frustration. The human had gone and so had the intoxicating human stink; there was just a stupid brown bat fluttering around outside the hated silver cage and that wasn't even worth killing, it was so small. The silver didn't give it any breathing space at all, even moving too much to mutilate itself was difficult. The wolf did the only thing it could, it sat on its hind quarters, stared out to the full moon illuminating the window in the corner, and howled in melancholy and pain.

...

Of course she'd researched it. The very first thing she'd done after coming around in the hospital to a tearful Billy explaining she'd contracted lycanthropy was to read as much about werewolves as possible before coming to the conclusion that she needed to leave and isolate herself for everyone's safety. Bonnie had also read that she would wake from her first full moon in pain, cold, stiff. She'd brewed as many potions as she could to counter the effects of the transformation although her newly heightened werewolf metabolism meant they wouldn't help for long before her body burned them up. But it seemed that the books had been wrong because the first thing she felt as her mind began to return and she struggled up through the folds of unconsciousness was warmth. She was warm, lying somewhere much softer than the floor of her silver cage. And yes her whole body throbbed with the raw agony of the change but she was surprised at how bearable it was. Most of her books had said that a newly infected werewolf's first change was unusually vicious and agonizing. Then the arms she hadn't even registered were holding her tightened their embrace a little and her eyes shot open.

"Shh, take it easy, dork. You're still recovering, you need to rest."

There were moments in her life that were simply overwhelming. Bonnie wasn't someone who cried easily but sometimes things were impossible to hold in. Years later she'd cry at her mother's funeral. Cry when an older Marceline folded herself down onto one knee and presented her with the most beautiful engagement ring she'd ever seen. Cry when her decades of painful and frustrating research finally paid off and she remained human on a full moon for the first time in almost fifty years. But that morning she was still a new werewolf, still only seventeen and still convinced her life was over because of the crippling disease she'd been cursed with. And Marceline was there, lying right next to her in the cabin's only bed and reaching out to smooth her cheek like she wasn't some horrifying monster-

The tears came. At some point Bonnie realised she'd allowed herself to be tugged back down into a loving embrace and wrapped in sheets that must be layered with an expert warming charm to ease the dull agony in her muscles. She couldn't hold the tears back once they'd begun. They dripped down her face and soaked the pillows and Bonnie shook with the force of her sobs as Marcy held her and murmured comfortingly to her.

"It's ok, it's going to be ok. Did you think I wouldn't love you anymore? You're wrong, I still love you just as much. More. You're the bravest person I ever met, Bon. We're going to get through this together, I'm going to look after you. It's going to be ok."

"I'm so sorry. It happened when I was working, a muggleborn boy was killed. We didn't know what we were dealing with. By the time Finn and the other Aurors rescued me it was too late, it had bitten me. They killed the werewolf but I'm still cursed. I'm sorry." Bonnie whispered around her shameful tears.

"It's ok, you have nothing to be sorry about. You were scared. I understand, I'd have been scared too. But if this was the other way around, if I was bitten, you wouldn't abandon me, right?" Marcy replied softly. She wiped the tears away from the cheek she could reach and gently tilted Bonnie's chin up until their eyes met. Marceline tried to push as much honesty, as much love and tenderness as she possibly could into her gaze. She'd had all night to think about it while the wolf raged below her perch, she'd made up her mind already. And really it wasn't a choice anyway, how could she have left?

"I'm always here for you." Bonnie replied. For the first time since she'd woken, maybe the first time since the bite, a fragile smile lit her face. "If this was the other way around I'd do anything I could for you."

"Well then you know how I feel, right? I love you. I'm not gonna leave you to suffer this alone."

"But this is different, I'm different. I'm not worth it. You are."

"Don't make me tickle you, Sugar. I swear I will."

The lips that met her own were warm and hesitant, like Marcy was scared she'd hurt the other girl just by kissing her. But relief made Bonnie bold and as well as her newly acquired metabolism other things about her physiology been changed, heightened, made that much more insistent than before the bite. And more than anything she needed her mate, craved her in a more visceral way than she ever had before. Soon her hands were pulling insistently at Marceline's shirt and her lover was only too eager to wriggle out of her clothes and give the werewolf what she craved. Sleep might be the best medicine but intense, incredible, mind-bendingly lustful sex was definitely a close second, Bonnie thought distantly through the hot ache of pain-pleasure that her still sore body was filing with. For a moment that stretched endlessly she was more perfectly aware of every detail around her than she had ever been in her life. Air rushed in and out of her lungs, hot blood raced through her veins, limbs trembled with need and ache. The places their skin touched were hot and slick, burning with the heat of two bodies tangling together. Bonnie opened her eyes and took in every detail of her lover's face, eyes bright and sharp with desire, full lips parted around her gasps and moans, that same silky midnight hair that Bonnie loved so much mussed and falling ignored into her face as they writhed and struggled to be as close as possible. And in that moment Bonnie understood that the wolf was now woven through her so deeply that she heard its thoughts in her own internal voice. And the wolf saw through her eyes, saw Marceline above her flushed with pleasure and desire, felt the desperate ache of need radiating through her core, and the wolf quivered with a single thought; _ours_.

The climax surged around her like a tidal wave. Everywhere was heat and sensation, her mind was finally blissfully quiet, all thoughts were drowned beneath that unrelenting flood of pure pleasure. For the first time since the bite Bonnie felt the wolf quieten, finally content and peaceful, and all she could do was moan her lover's name and arch into the overwhelming sensation.

 _Mate. Master. Ours._

* * *

 **(Yes, it's a deliberate homage to Wolfstar. One day a long time ago, or not that long ago depending on your point of view, a newly-teenaged little dinosaur whose name sounds a lot like Cresiosaur discovered Wolfstar. And that was fine, right? Because shipping two boys in a suuuuper gay ship didn't mean she was a lesbian, right? She liked boys! Totally! So much that she wanted them to be together with each other and live happy queer lives and adopt baby Harry together! So. Very. Straight. Fast forward some and here we are. My own little hat-tip to the queer ship of queerness that started it all.)**


	5. Chapter 5

**And we're back. First things first, I have to be honest about why I've not posted in so long. I've suffered with anxiety and depression pretty badly since I was about ten years old and this has been a particularly difficult few weeks. I'm getting through it but it doesn't help that a long term back problem has been flaring up again and walking is increasingly difficult. Sleep is difficult, moving is difficult, staying still is difficult. I inhabit a world of pain right now, and it sucks. But that's my junk, not anything you need to worry about. Just, I thought y'all deserved an explanation.**

 **Hey so the very amazing and talented SalaciousSymphonies is back! With the Ties universe AND A NEW STORY! Go check her out and give her love, no spoilers but I can tell you that there's some amazing plot going to be happening over there in the near future. Also, if you're not reading Rehearsal by the incredibly talented and simply amazing CountingWithTurkies what are you even doing? Those are my recommendations for now, do read them if you get chance. For now, have some canonical wand lore from Pottermore, a minor ancestral OC mention and some very specific (and accurate!) British geography in this chapter. Thank you for your patience guys, you're all way too good for me and I don't deserve you.**

 **Content Warning: House elves! Feels! Werewolf emotions! REVEALS!**

* * *

The wolf was still strong in her mind next morning when a loud _crack!_ of apparition had Bonnie instantly awake and soaring out of bed with a snarl. She landed with her teeth bared in pure instinct right on top of - a house elf?

"Oh hell, Peppermint?" Marceline asked from the bed.

"How did you get in? Who the hell are you?" Bonnie snarled.

"I is here for the little mistress!" he squeaked in terror. "I need to warn her!"

"Let him up, babe. He's my father's elf, he must have been watching me." Marcy sighed. She'd pulled the sheets right up the moment the noise had woken them and now grabbed the discarded robe from the floor to shimmy into before sliding out of bed and coming forward to stare down her nose at the cringing elf. Bonnie was still naked and obviously unashamed of it, that must be a side effect from the recent full moon because she'd normally be shy of undressing even in front of her Ravenclaw dorm mates. Her teeth were still bared and fingers curled like she longed to sprout claws and protect her mate from the potential threat. Marceline slid a calming hand through her hair to rest on the back of her neck in a subtle gesture of dominance. Bonnie glanced up at her and shrunk wordlessly away from the elf. She retreated to the bed to watch them with unblinking eyes and bunched muscles like she was ready to spring forward again if the intruder made even the smallest threatening move.

"You've been watching me. Haven't you?" Marceline prompted as she stared down at him. Peppermint cringed away from her gaze.

"I didn't want to, mistress! _He_ told me, he wanted to know where you was going!"

"My father? So he knows about me and Bonnie and he's not here to disown me himself?"

"No, mistress. Not the master. _Him._ I isn't able to say the words, miss. The master's magic stops it. But _he's_ not part of the family, I doesn't have to listen to him. Peppermint was your mother's elf, mistress, before she was married. Peppermint is your elf now you is of age and out of school! The master sent me to you because of _him_! To watch you until you is ready!"

"Him. Who? Is this the person who's been following me, the one who was in the house? Was he the one who was going through my stuff? Answer me!"

"He made Peppermint do it! He isn't allowed to do no magic right now, miss. He ordered Peppermint to look for clues in the mistress' things and to take away her memories of his conversation with the master. The magics that keep him out of people's thoughts is failing, miss. He doesn't want you to remember yet."

Marceline sank down onto the mattress and instinctively turned her face into Bonnie's shoulder to try to control her breathing and the horrified pulse that was thundering in her ears. She wasn't being paranoid or going crazy after all. Someone had been following her. And the realization was slowly sinking through the shock of her thoughts that her father knew who it was and wasn't doing anything about it. Hunson was complicit. She'd been questioning her sanity for weeks and he'd just sat there and known and let her think she was going crazy. And she still didn't know who was fucking with her or why.

"Who is he?" she heard Bonnie snarl fiercely. Marceline lifted her head and turned her gaze to the elf in time to see him shake his head regretfully.

"I isn't allowed to speak his name. Or his relationship to the mistress. Certain things was agreed, when the mistress was just small, and those things has come to pass. But he isn't going away again, we is all going to have to get used to him. You is going to have to speak to the master and find out what is happening." Peppermint replied, although he was looking at Marcy like she'd been the one to address him.

 _His relationship to the mistress_. Marceline felt herself go cold as a new terror presented itself to her already numb mind.

"Peppermint, what do you mean things were agreed when I was small? Did... has Hunson betrothed me to someone? Is this an arranged marriage?" she managed to ask through clenched teeth.

"I won't let them force some man onto you. I'll kill them myself if I have to." Bonnie snarled. Her grip on Marceline tightened and when the taller girl looked into her eyes the new hint of lupine gold that ringed her iris was almost glowing with rage.

"I isn't allowed to speak more of it, the master's magic holds poor Peppermint's tongue against it." the elf squeaked. He was cowering against the bare floorboards and wringing his teacloth toga between long, gnarled fingers, avoiding their gaze.

"I have to speak with my father and find out what all this about." Marceline heard herself say. She went to stand but Bonnie held her tight, unreasonably terrified of what might happen if she let go.

"No, he's going to hurt you. I should come too. I need to be there to protect you and make sure nobody can take your memories. Werewolves are resistant to magic that affects the mind."

"Bonnie, you can't."

"But-"

"I mean literally, you can't. Moor House is warded against the undead and non-humans of every form. If you set a single foot past the gates you'll be burned alive."

"I'm not waiting here alone while you go off and get Imperio'd into bed with some dark pureblood twice your age that your father picked out of an ancient genealogy book!" Bonnie yelled. Her face was flushed with rage and her hair was still messy from sleep and nocturnal intimacies; Marceline suffered a moment of completely inappropriate desire to just stay there, send Peppermint away and let Bonnie wipe her mind deliciously blank with willing lips and fingers. But the voice of reason, as small as it was in her mind, was insistent. It wouldn't do any good to just avoid her father and pretend she didn't know that he'd been messing with her. She needed to have a serious discussion with him.

"Bonnie, listen to me. I have to go and find out what's going on. You have to stay here and recover, you're still weak from your transformation. I'm not going to have an argument with you about this." Marceline added hurriedly before the redhead had finished sucking in an angry breath.

"So you're just going to walk into danger without even knowing who this person is or what's going on?" she asked instead.

"I guess so. If things look like they're about to go bad I'll turn bat and nope the fuck out of there. They won't be expecting that at a least. Hunson doesn't know I'm an Animagus, right?" Marceline asked as she turned back to the elf.

"Little miss is an Animagus? Such talent, the old mistress would have been so proud."

"Peppermint, I want you to stay here with Bonnie. Make sure she's safe and rests, make sure she eats a good meal before she has to lock herself back in her cage tonight. I should be back before then but... Just keep her safe, ok?"

Peppermint bowed low and turned to his new ward, sizing her up before nodding and trotting over to the little kitchenette area in the corner. Bonnie glowered at him but for once it seemed like she was going to hold her tongue. Marceline was thankful for that at least and she finished dressing as quickly as possible before turning back to the sulking woman on the bed.

"Bon, I'm coming back soon. I promise. Just let me go talk to Daddy. There are things we can do to get out of a betrothal, not even the purest families would force someone to marry against their will. I just tell him I won't marry someone I don't know, agree to spend some time with the suitor then announce that I find him disagreeable. Then a decent amount of gold changes hands and I'm free to chose my own husband. Easy peasy . Or bride, y'know. Hand-fasted spousal partner of whatever flavour. Look, point is I'm not about to get forced into an arranged marriage. So I just need you to do one thing for me."

"What's that?" Bonnie asked warily as her girlfriend leaned in with that solemn look on her face that either meant she was being deadly serious or was trying very hard to keep from laughing.

"Be a good dork. Sit. _Stay."_ Marceline commanded, before whirling on her heels and disapparating with a laugh a second before Bonnie's grab caught the air where her robe collar had been.

The redhead snarled in frustration but there was nothing she could do besides let the fear and anger coil through her limbs. Marceline would be in so much trouble when she got back, Bonnie thought furiously. If she came back. She was coming back, she'd promised. Even inside her own head Bonnie knew that it wasn't a promise Marceline could guarantee she'd keep.

...

The picturesque marshland surrounding Llangorse Lake and the nearby village of the same name might look to a casual observer to be pretty similar to the coarse moorland fields around Moor House but Marceline was no casual observer and she'd never been a slouch at geography back in the days when her father had hired tutors before Hogwarts. It was over two hundred miles from Bonnie's rundown cabin in South Wales to the Abadeer Museum Of Misery And Madness up at the top of the North Yorkshire moors and the simple act of apparating that far on an empty stomach when she'd been deeply asleep only twenty minutes earlier had left Marceline winded and nauseous. She took a moment to glare up at the crumbling brown stonework of her ancestral home like it had somehow been personally responsible and for a moment she was certain she saw a face in one of the upstairs windows staring back. Was it her father? Or the mysterious man Peppermint had been forbidden from talking about? The reckless and usually dominant side of her personality wanted to march up to the house, kick the doors open and demand answers at the top of her lungs. But there was another, quieter voice that informed her conscience. It sounded like her mother a lot of time, or like Bonnie when she wasn't in the grip of new werewolf hormone crazies. It whispered that the beautiful redhead she'd fallen hard for wasn't the only young woman in the world with a brain in her head, and that Marceline would do better to at least try to think of a plan before she charged in like some stupid Gryffindor. Whatever element of surprise she might have had was gone now that she'd been seen. She considered; that might turn out to be a good move. She didn't want to come home sneaking and cringing like she was the one in the wrong. Hunson has been keeping secrets from her, letting whoever it was he'd decided she was going to marry go through her stuff for evidence of... what, exactly? _Bonnie_. The thought hit her hard. He was looking to see if the rumours that she had a secret muggleborn girlfriend were true because even if her father would dismiss the idea as impossible this mystery suitor probably wasn't going to take chances with an engagement that had been planned in excruciating detail probably since her conception. However she'd downplayed it to her girlfriend, Marceline knew that no pureblood in their right mind would give up easily on the opportunity to marry into one of the wealthiest and most influential wizarding families in Europe.

With a determined huff she swallowed down the twisting ribbon of fear that tried to tie her throat closed and lifted her head high. She had her wand drawn and held loosely in her right fist, she was the heir of the estate coming home and she had nothing to be afraid of. Nothing would make her slink back to her birth right like she had to apologise or justify herself. With all the unconscious pureblood arrogance that she'd inherited from over a thousand years of careful breeding Marceline strode forward and let the wards greet her like an excited puppy. Waves of almost invisible magic surged from the ground and gates, flowing up to lap at her robe hems and swirl around her boots in excitement. They reached out to her curiously and pulled back in hesitation, tasting the shadows of unfamiliar magic that lingered from the cabin. It took a moment longer than usual and she figured that was to do with the trace of a werewolf's touch all over her skin and clothing but eventually the wards melted back into a neutral state and permitted her access to the driveway. The gates swung closed behind her with a very final sounding _clang!_ and Marceline repressed a shiver.

An elf met her at the door, not one she recognized. That was ominous, had Hunson released Peppermint from his service because she'd graduated? Or perhaps because the elf had finally gotten the courage to remind him that his daughter was now the rightful mistress since she was of age and finished in school. Maybe Peppermint simply did not approve of whoever this suitor was and had found he could argue with Hunson about it since Marceline was his rightful mistress. She let herself be lead to the study door without a word and drew herself up to full height when her father's voice bid her to enter.

"I was worried about you." Hunson began when she stepped into the palatial study.

"Yeah? Not worried enough to take my security concerns seriously. Or to even turn around and look me in the eye," she returned, voice laced with venom and eyes looking everywhere but her father's stiff back as he stood ramrod straight at the window. He sighed and his head inclined a fraction of an inch, but still he didn't turn to her. Instead the older man reached out a hand and gestured at the damp moorland out of the window and the dark study hung with red velvet draped and lined in towering bookshelves.

"Your ancestor Jurian Ignatius Abadeer spent most of his boyhood in the magical schools of Spain and Italy during the Napoleonic wars. He loved the heat and sun, he only returned here when he was sixteen and his older brother, a man twice his age that he'd never even met, was killed in an ill-advised duel. He built this wing of the house upon his marriage. Marceline, do you see any difference in the architecture of my study and the older parts of Moor House?"

She bit her lip, trying to decide between telling him to shove his fucking history lecture and answering truthfully that she'd had no idea. That small voice of reason was still insistent in the back of her mind though and she shrugged and let out a terse sigh. She'd not find out what she needed to know if she let herself give into rage too far.

"Nope, still looks just as huge and miserable as the rest of the place."

"Jurian did not even speak English as his first language. He was the younger son by the fourth wife and when his father divorced his mother she took the infant back to her home in Milan. And yet he came back and added a wing to his rightful home, in a style that was so in keeping with the rest of the house that nobody who did not know his story would be able to tell that he had ever lived anywhere else. Do you know why that is, Marceline?"

"Uh, I guess by the time he got back here the family syphilis had started to rot his brain?"

Hunson's shoulders tightened a little but there was no other outward sign of his displeasure with his daughter's sarcasm. He continued to narrate the boring and irrelevant tale of her however many times great grandfather's near-escape from having to live in Moor House in the same calm, detached voice that he'd been using so far.

"Because he respected the old ways. He understood who he was, what his name meant. He was not a man who would run from his duty to his family. Marceline, I want you to remember that story. Remember that the blood of Jurian Ignatius Abadeer runs through your veins. From the portraits of him as a young man I would even say you have his eyes."

Hunson finished his speech with a long sigh and his shoulders sagged wearily. More than anything else that was what frightened his daughter. In all the years they'd maintained a wary distance from each other the one lesson she'd learned from him above all else was to keep her feelings guarded, even around close family.

"Daddy? What's wrong?" she asked in concern, the rancor of moments before forgotten. Hunson turned then and his daughter caught a gasp in her throat at his appearance.

At no point in her life had Marceline ever stopped to consider how old her father was. If she'd had to guess she'd probably have figured somewhere between sixty and eighty, maybe a decade more or less either way if the natural preservative properties of magic were taken into account. It was so hard to tell with his gaunt features and ageless eyes. Now he looked paler than she'd ever seen him before, worn down and lined with worry, frail in a way he'd never been in his life.

"You are my only heir, Marceline, And I am not immortal. There is family business you need to be made aware of, things you need to learn to handle before the inevitability of time takes me to the next world. Things that... that I wish I could have told you about sooner. Merlin, I tried. But magic that has been bound in blood and oaths for a decade is not so easily broken. I tried twice. The morning you returned from school, do you remember our conversation?"

"I... no. Why don't I remember?" she replied in sudden panic. Hunson shuffled forward to his desk and indicated the seat opposite his own. Marceline slid into it bonelessly, too shocked to do more than stare at her father.

"I am a Secret Keeper, Marceline. And for you especially, the secret is so bound up with unconscious trauma that your mind is unwilling to remember. It must be revealed in stages. Then second time... that was even worse. You were unprepared and I was forced to stun you and instruct the house elves to take you to your bed and aide your recovery from the shock." he admitted quietly. Green eyes slid worriedly over her horrified face before down to the tightly clasped wand he was holding. Cherrywood, twelve inches in length and completely flexible. Unyielding, like the man who wielded it. He still remembered with perfect clarity the day so many years before when old Ollivander Senior had placed it into his hand and a fountain of golden sparks had shot out of the end. Dragon heart-string; he'd left the shop elated but with his eleven year old ears ringing with a warning that a cherrywood and dragon heart-string wand required both conscience and self discipline as rigid as the rare wood from which it was made.

"Daddy? Why is the person you betrothed me to a secret?" Marceline asked warily, pulling him from his memories. He stared at her an almost laughed.

"Betrothed? Merlin, there were no suitable suitors when you were born! The Malfoy boy was already almost finished at Hogwarts and too arrogant for his own good, the Blacks had managed to produce one blood traitor and one spineless disappointment. Yaxley had a son but he had a rather dull look to him and your mother was resistant to the idea of it all anyway. Bones, now there was a family we could have made a good match with. But their son was twelve already and wouldn't hear a word of being engaged to a newborn baby. No, you were never betrothed to anyone. Is that what you thought this was about? On my sweet daughter. I wish it was as simple as that." Hunson replied. He shook his head and reached for a blank sheet of parchment and a quill.

"Then what the hell is this about? Because you look like you're about to drop dead with stress and I'm sitting here repressing a pretty massive panic attack." she replied with a scowl.

"Here, read this. It needs to be revealed to you in stages. At the time I thought I was protecting your best interests to bind the secret with blood magic, make it harder to be accidentally discovered. Once you have read this sentence and can repeat it back to me without looking at the words then I will know it is fixed in your mind and we can move forward."

With shaking hands she took the parchment covered with his hurried scribble and looked down on the words that were about to change her life. Marceline gasped in shock and then looked up at her father, eyes wide.

"You- you had a- a- wait. I... wait."

"It will take a few minutes to sink past the magical barriers of your mind." he replied gravely. She nodded and looked back down at the parchment. In the time it took to look up and meet her father's steady gaze the information had already been forgotten, leaving just a vague trace of shock that she couldn't quite place.

This time she scanned the words a dozen times before reading them aloud and looking up. Hunson nodded approvingly.

"Before I was born you and my mother... no, it's gone." Marceline finished with a snarl of frustration.

"Again. Focus, Marceline."

This time she read the words aloud over and over, so many times that her mouth was dry from repetitions when Hunson finally cleared his throat and drew her attention.

"If that has not been sufficient then we will try again tomorrow. Now, can you tell me what the secret is?"

"Before I was born you and my mother had a son." Marceline whispered miserably. "And he committed a terrible crime and was sent to Azkaban when I was still a child. You used an ancient version of the Fidelius charm to keep his entire existence a secret from everyone but the few who needed to know. Why are you telling me now?"

Marceline froze in horror as her consciousness flared with a new awareness. Now that the secret was firmly embedded in her mind she caught a movement on the edge of her peripheral vision that she hadn't been able to see before and reeled around instinctively.

He was taller than her and where she'd inherited her mother's oval shaped face and full lips he was more angular, more like his father. But they had the same eyes and the same silky black hair. The stranger who was her brother smiled disarmingly and let his gaze slide over her critically.

"Hello again, little sister. It's been a while. You've grown." he murmured in a deep, smooth voice. Marceline barely heard him over the rushing noise in her ears. It was too much to take in at once and a tiny detached part of her brain wondered if this is what it had felt like those other two times as well. She couldn't remember ever passing out before so she had no reference point.

Hunson's magic caught his daughter's prone shape and suspended her gently in the air as he turned to glare at the younger man.

"I told you to let me do the talking." he snarled, anger evident in his face despite the recent toll exhaustion and worry had taken.

"My mistake. Are you sure you want her as your heir? She seems like she's got a kinda weak mind." the man replied casually. "All it would take is for you to acknowledge me as your son again-"

"I have no son!" Hunson screamed in a rare display of fury. "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

The younger man who had once been an Abadeer shrugged and turned to the door, calling for his personal house elf as he went.

"CAKE!"

She appeared by his side with a pop, already bowing low.

"How can I serve little Master Marshall?" the elf squeaked nervously.

"Bring some strawberries to my room. I'm hungry and I want something sweet." he replied as the study door swung shut behind him.

Hunson was left to glare after the younger man and carefully levitate his unconscious daughter to her own bed. At least she was home, he thought morosely as he slid back into his solitary seat at his desk with a glass of Firewhiskey after making sure Marceline was sleeping soundly. If she needed him to share the secret again in the morning then he would, every morning until her mind finally accepted that soon Marshall would be her responsibility along with the rest of the Abadeer estate.


	6. Chapter 6

**Guys I want to tell you about Chain Reaction, the club in the last part of this chapter. It was a real place! A genuine punk-dyke bar that was a big influence on the London scene in the mid 80s. That makes it sound like I personally remember it? I wasn't born yet, but I did a lot of research into that bar in particular and the mid 80s in general for this story. Assuming Harry was born in 1980 and the events of Philosopher's Stone take place in 1991, we've already met his classmate Zacharias Smith who is six years old coming up seven, we can assume this takes place in around 1986/87. Which exactly the time when Chain Reaction was opening and making punk lesbian A Thing on the London LGBT scene. We have a tiny cameo from Frankie Goes To Hollywood's iconic song _Relax!_ as well as a head wolf, a very minor muggle OC and some lore exposition. Enjoy!**

 **Minor note for those interested; I'm posting this at stupid early o'clock from a tiny hotel in the middle of Wales. What am I doing here? I'm here to buy a kitten. A very special pedigree kitten from the best breeder the British Isles has to offer. Yes it was a six hour drive in the dark across the country to get here, but it was worth it. Because today we're picking up a new baby sphynx cat named Rupert and I'm just too excited to sleep! New nakey kitten! So if anyone is interested in seeing pics they'll be on my partner's IG account (vixen. v. fox.) as well as lots of pretty makeup and the occasional cameo from yours truly.**

 **As always, if you're not already, go read Rehearsal! The most excellent and talented CountingWithTurkeys is writing one of the best damn stories I ever read in any fandom or published book ever and you all deserve to see it because it's indescribably awesome. Do yourselves a favour, go read it.**

 **Content warning: lore, head wolves being wolfy, punk ladydykes being awesome.**

* * *

 _WANTED: Lycanthropic test subjects for a potentially life-changing potions experiment. All_ _ages considered, full anonymity guaranteed. You will be reimbursed for your inconvenience and have the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to change the fate of your species. Please reply via owl to D.B, Room 2, The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley, London. No time wasters._

If it looked too good to be true it probably was, Bonnie thought as she read over the tattered clipping from the back of the Daily Prophet yet again.

"Well?" Lady prompted. "I thought it might interest you. Anything that might bring in a little income for you, stop you just brooding in this dirty cabin. It's looking a lot cleaner though, did you fix it up?"

"I'm not brooding, and I have a house elf, thanks. Marceline brought him to me." Bonnie replied. There was more exhaustion in her words than anger though. She wasn't fully recovered from the two nights of full moon and she hadn't heard from her girlfriend in days. The worry was beginning to eat at her.

"I'm sure she's just delayed." Lady soothed, interpreting her friend's tired sigh correctly.

"She promised she'd be back. And it's been three days. She missed my second full moon night, do you think… she would have told me if she wanted to break up, wouldn't she?" Bonnie finally replied.

"I'm sure she would have, yeah. Look, why not send the elf to go scout out what's happening? He has to do whatever you tell him, right?"

"I never thought of that. Honestly, Lady, I've been so tired. I spent most of the first day asleep and then trying to feed myself because I felt so weak. I've slept about twenty hours and I'm still exhausted. I want to go look for her but I don't think I'm up to much, I can barely stay awake long enough to take a shower. Would… would you maybe stop by her place? I dunno if Peppermint would be too conspicuous. Ask around, ask Lydia Sable-Pendragon. I can't get past the wards because they're werewolf-proof."

"I'll try. I have tomorrow afternoon off, me and Jake can take a trip up to Yorkshire on the pretext of giving her back that quidditch book he borrowed. I'm not duelling her father if he rumbles us though." Lady warned. Bonnie flung her arms around her friend anyway and squeezed her in a surprisingly firm hug for someone who looked a few seconds away from fainting most of the time.

"You're the best!"

"Yeah, I know. I also need to breathe so if you could- thanks. Yeah. Guess you're still adapting to that new werewolf strength. How's it going?"

Bonnie was quiet for a long time, staring down at her hands when she settled back on the couch and Lady wondered if maybe she'd crossed some unspoken line. When the redhead did speak her voice was quiet and crackled with emotion.

"It's like a whirlwind in my head, all the time. It gets worse as the full moon gets nearer. I can barely think for it sometimes. And I can hear the wolf in my thoughts. It hates me. I mean, it hates everyone but me especially because I'm trying to control it. That's why I needed to make the cage so small, so there wasn't room for it to turn and mutilate itself. The only person the wolf likes even a little is Marcy and that's because it's decided she's our master now. I feel like I'm only ever a second or two from lashing out in anger, I have to concentrate all the time to keep my temper in check. God, I miss work so much."

Her voice cracked on the last sentence and Lady instinctively slid her arms around her friend, ignoring the strangled sobs.

"It's going to get better." Lady soothed. "You'll get the wolf under better control and we'll find Marceline and bring her back from whatever evil plot her father has her involved in. It will get better."

"Will it? Because I'm not sure anymore." Bonnie replied.

"It will. I promise. If I have to march in there and drag her stupid pureblood butt here myself, I'll bring her back."

Bonnie was going to point out that Lady had just ruled out duelling Marceline's father when Peppermint appeared with a _pop!_ and a plate of sandwiches for them.

"Lunch for the mistress and her guest." he announced happily, looking around for somewhere to put the plate. When nowhere obvious presented itself he simply wobbled his head from side to side in a gesture Bonnie was beginning to learn was roughly equivalent to a shrug, snapped his long fingers and a beautifully carved dark wooden coffee table materialized in front of her horrible broken old couch.

"Can you make furniture appear and disappear?" Bonnie asked, eyes wide.

"No, mistress. But you has no coffee table here and there is many things unused in storage at Moor House, Peppermint can bring them if his mistress has need. Is the furnishings not to the mistress' taste?" he inquired, peering around like he'd only just realised that Bonnie hadn't specifically chosen to surround herself with moth-eaten curtains and broken, mismatched furniture three decades out of fashion.

"If you could maybe take away the broken things and put in something more comfortable, I'd really appreciate that." she replied. He nodded and trotted off to the other end of the cabin where a threadbare curtain separated the sleeping area from the living area.

"So all this time you've been living like a squatter and you could have been sleeping on a literal golden bed." Lady observed as Peppermint snapped his fingers and instantly replaced the tattered, ancient bedstead and mattress with a gilded sleigh bed piled high with plush pillows.

"I thought after seven years in Hogwarts that I pretty much knew everything there was to know about the wizarding world. And look at this, house elves can swap furniture around between their owners' properties just by waving a hand. I think I have a handle on the world and then it pulls the rug out from under my feet." Bonnie sighed.

"But like, in an awesome way, right?" Lady asked brightly. Bonnie probably saw through her friend's false enthusiasm but she obviously appreciated the effort anyway because she nodded and managed to haul a smile onto her face.

"Most of the time, yes. Shall we eat? Then maybe we can help Peppermint renovate this place."

Fixing the cabin and transforming it from dark and squalid back to its homely former glory was very nearly exhausting and rewarding enough for Bonnie to forget to brood over Marceline. But the wolf never forgot, never allowed itself to become distracted. Always in the back of her mind like a pulsing heartbeat the same question and command thrummed.

 _Where is the master? Protect the master._

 _..._

She was late to dinner. The bell had announced food was ready to be served and the family should take their seats but Marceline was in the middle of an excellent brood that she'd been brooding all day and one thing she knew about broods, you couldn't interrupt one for dinner then come back to it later because it would completely ruin the atmosphere. No, a brood had to be brooded out with conviction and if that meant an empty stomach then so be it. So she sat in her room and stared out of the windows at the rainy moorland, broodily.

A knock at the door made her jump and that was really frustrating because jumping definitely ruined a brood so it was a very sulky and petulant voice that bid her guest to enter.

"Uncle Simon!" Marcy squealed, hurtling upright and launching herself into his arms for a hug, forgetting all about her brood in the process.

"Hello darling, how are you? I thought you deserved a night off so I'm here to babysit your... guest." he finished delicately.

"He has a name. But thanks, I appreciate it. I hate being stuck here." she replied.

"I know, darling. You're young and you should be out having fun with your friends, not cooped up in this old place playing prison guard. Leave him to me, I may be retired but I'll wager that a young man without a wand is no match for a former Charms professor."

"Simon... what do you remember about him?" Marcy asked. She was uncertain if pressing the matter would result in the fainting fits that had plagued her for the last few days and kept her from fulfilling her promise to return to Bonnie, but she was also desperate for information. Simon shook his head with a rueful smile.

"Less than I'd like to and more than I should, I'm sure. He has the look of your father about him, there's no denying the family resemblance. So I suppose the story of his disowning is true. But darling, I have all kinds of photographs of your childhood and he's nowhere to be seen in any of them."

"He's twelve years older than me, he was already at Hogwarts when I was born." Marceline explained.

"Oh. I suppose that makes sense."

"Daddy said he committed a crime, and that's why he was disowned and sent to Azkaban. He said I can't know the details until my mind has fully absorbed the fact of him simply existing. Is it always this complex to undo a Fidellius Charm?"

"No, not usually. But this charm, I gather, was bound up with blood magic. The kind of ancient pagan magic we don't usually bother with these days because all that nonsense with rituals and solstices and such takes so much more time than just waving a wand and saying the spell. But back before the Romans came to Britain that was the only kind of magic they knew. Did you know Merlin himself followed the rhythm of the seasons and performed his most celebrated magic on the solstices and equinoxes?"

"The point, Simon?" Marcy reminded him gently. Her uncle was a consummate academic and prone to rambling about his subject at every possible opportunity. He smiled a little sheepishly and readjusted his glasses before continuing.

"The point, darling, is that some of the oldest magical families in Britain still remember the Old Ways. When your father removed the memory of the man who was formerly your brother from the minds of everyone except the select few entrusted with guarding him, he used the Old Magic to ensure the charm's permanence. It cannot be undone all in one go. Magic like the Old Way requires faith and commitment. It requires sacrifice. And so he has chanted the ritual words, cut his palm with the ritual blade and bled in the sacred oak grove to renew the magic every year since. At the spring equinox this year, however, I gather he began a new ritual. A ritual of unbinding, so that the secret could be revealed in time. And again at Midsummer, he bled and unbound the ancient magic. He will do so again at the autumn equinox and one last time on Midwinter's night. Then the old magic will be fully undone. Only then will he be able to speak freely about that particular young man, and either leave him disowned or acknowledge him as he will. If... well. We'll see what happens." Simon finished cryptically.

"Is my father dying?" Marceline asked him, trying to catch his eye. "I know he's ill. He's not as good at hiding it as he thinks."

"He's... not in the best health. Renewing the Old Way takes a lot out of him. And he's been doing it for so many years now, it became bound to his magical energy. He's scared that the unbinding rituals will require more life force than he can spare." Simon sighed.

"But if it's about blood then I could help, right? I'm his heir."

"I do not think Hunson wants his only child cutting ritual runes into her palms and bleeding for the Old Way inside the sacred grove. I think he only reluctantly began the unbinding now because he knew he was getting too old and the family secrets must fall to you. Eventually if you choose to keep your former brother in exile you can rebind him yourself once you are the mistress of Moor House. Until then your father has the final say, and he has extended the unexpected hand of peace and allowed that young man house space again rather than leaving him to languish in Azkaban."

"I don't understand." Marceline sighed, shaking her head. "Why not let him rot in prison? If he committed such a terrible crime he shouldn't be allowed back in the house, should he?"

"I have no memory of the crime he committed, but I do have a bad feeling about it. Be on your guard, Marcy. Do not let that young man know more than is strictly necessary about you. He's too much like your father when he was young, too charming and slippery to be genuine. Don't let him befriend you or talk you into revealing anything you wouldn't want to be common knowledge. For example, a certain red haired muggleborn girl that a certain niece of mine keeps sneaking away to spend the night with should probably be kept well away from him."

She levelled him a stare that she managed to keep unsurprised only through extreme force of will.

"How long have you known?"

"Since the night you successfully seduced her in the prefects bathroom. I wasn't just at Hogwarts of out academic interest, Marceline. I was there to fulfil the promise I made to your mother to keep you safe and keep a close eye on you. You were not exactly subtle in your motivations regarding that particular young lady."

She couldn't fight the blush creeping up her neck to stain her cheeks a blotchy red and maintaining eye contact with his knowing gaze was too hard. Marceline looked down, knowing she had no defence from it.

"And yet you're sitting here telling me to go out and enjoy myself when I guess you know I'd be going to see her?" she asked instead.

"Do you think I disapprove? I don't. Miss Sugar was an excellent student and I was sorry to hear that Healing wasn't to her taste after all of her hard work but I'm sure she'll excel at whatever she puts her mind to. Her blood is magical enough for me, I couldn't care less who her parents were. You could certainly do worse." Simon added with an encouraging smile.

For a crazy moment Marceline wanted to blurt it all out to him, wanted her brilliant uncle to tell her there was some Old Way cure for lycanthropy and save the day for her the way he had when she'd been small and too scared to go to her father with minor mishaps. But it wasn't her secret to share and as understanding as he was, Simon was still an old pureblood. He wasn't going to be any more understanding about her dating a werewolf than her father was. So instead Marceline swallowed down that impulse and stood from the end of her bed, making for the closet and a fresh set of robes because the ones she was wearing were her brooding robes and she wanted to change into something flashier and more muggle. Because very suddenly Marceline had decided that she was done with brooding. She had a night off and she had a beautiful girlfriend who was probably out of her mind with worry and she also had a Gringotts account that was overflowing with gold. They were going out to muggle London and dancing the night away, just the way she'd promised Bonnie they would after graduation.

...

"MARCY!"

From the gasp of pain and crunch as they hit the ground in a tangled heap Bonnie realised she might have been a little too enthusiastic to greet her girlfriend when she finally walked through the door. But she couldn't help it, she could _feel_ the wolf in her head wagging its tail and leaping for joy because _the master is home!_

"Bon, get off me, I can't breathe!" Marcy told her, but she laughed and didn't loosen her grip on the redhead either. "Are you sniffing me?"

"I... yeah, apparently I am. You smell really good. Shut up and let me wolf on you, ok? I missed you! Are you alright? What happened? I missed you."

"You said! I missed you too. And it's a long story. One I'd prefer to tell you over dinner. Come on, put something pretty on and fix your face, we're going out for dinner and dancing."

All the lethargy that had plagued her for the last few days lifted and Bonnie found herself grinning from ear to ear as she hurried to get herself ready to go out. _The master was home! They were going out! Walkies!_ She sat on that thought hard and told the wolf in her head in no uncertain terms that they were not going for walkies, they were going to eat human dinner like humans and then go to a nightclub to dance with other humans. Other female, homosexual humans. It would be fun and it would have exactly zero opportunities to scent mark territory so there was no point even asking.

 _Don't want. No fun,_ the wolf sulked in the back of her brain.

 _Suck it up. No peeing on anything, no growling, no wolf behaviour. You get two nights a month where I can't keep you down. The rest of the time you don't exist to me,_ she thought back savagely.

 _Hate you,_ the wolf snarled. She felt it slink into the back of her brain and curl up huffily, but it had less fight in it now that the moon was waning and it would be at least another three weeks before it could really exert any control over her behaviour.

Sweeping off over the twilight-lit landscape on the back of Marceline's broom with her arms tight around her girlfriend and the clean, fresh wind lifting the last of the depression and worry away, Bonnie felt lighter than she had in weeks. She was even smiling happily and was content to let the wolf have its way by cautiously resting her head against the back of Marceline's leather jacket and breathing in her amazing, unique scent.

 _Master. Ours. Mine. Yours. Master_! The wolf chanted it happily as they sped through the air and Bonnie was inclined to agree. _Ours. Safe. Master. Love!_ she sang along.

 _Lick?_ the wolf inquired, almost slyly.

"Most certainly not!" Bonnie replied, out loud because she was caught by surprise and the wolf let out a sort of happy huff that was equivalent to a laugh at having tricked her into talking to herself.

"Er, you ok back there, Bon?" Marcy called over her shoulder.

"I'm fine. Just. Uh... Look, you're gonna think I'm crazy. But sometimes the wolf talks to me. And it's not very civilised. It wants me to, uh, lick you." she admitted.

"I don't think you're crazy, it's a werewolf thing. I mean... you have an actual magical wolf living in your head. It'd be sorta weird if you didn't hear it sometimes. But tell your wolf from me that she's a pervert."

 _Master disapproves?_ the wolf whined. Bonnie suffered the mental equivalent of her ears dropping in sadness.

 _No, that's a compliment coming from her,_ she reassured it.

 _Master complimented us!_

Maybe, Bonnie thought as she leaned closer and closer without even realising she'd moved, the wolf still had more control than she'd bargained for. Because she was completely unable to stop herself from placing a long, wet, happy lick right along her girlfriend's ear. Marceline's squeal of surprise bounced around the valleys and hills far below as they shot across the landscape, mixing in with Bonnie's laughter and the wolf's happy huffing in her head.

...

They landed in the designated broom parking spot behind the Leaky Cauldron and with a quick tap of her wand and a mutter Marceline's broom shrank to the size of a pencil and slid inside a specially designed pocket on her jeans. At first glance she looked completely muggle but Bonnie quirked an eyebrow at the band name scrawled in glitter across her girlfriend's t-shirt, only now realising it was a completely new one.

"The Scream Queens?" she asked as they pushed through the crowd inside and out of the door to muggle London.

"Yeah. They're the band I started. I told you, I'm gonna be a rock star." Marceline grinned back. Bonnie shook her head but couldn't repress the fond smile that spread across her face. Life was good again. Yes, she was a werewolf. But she had Marcy to help take care of her. She'd sent an owl to whoever had posted the wanted ad and she was going to help change the fate of her species. It was a warm night, they were young and in love, what could go wrong?

"You have an older brother?" Bonnie gasped an hour later over dinner. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't know. My father bound him to an ancient pagan blood ritual so only people that he expressly allowed to know could remember he'd ever existed. I guess the Wizengamot know, and the guards at Azkaban. Me, Uncle Simon, and now you, and only because I can't tell you his name or anything more specific than that. Just that I _used to have a brother._ He's not my brother anymore. He was disowned."

"But, he's still your blood!"

Next second Bonnie was rushing out of her chair and around their small table at the little Italian restaurant they'd stopped at, racing to her girlfriend's side with supernatural speed and not caring one bit that she muggles might notice because Marceline's eyes had rolled back into her skull and she slumped in her chair in a faint. It only lasted for a few seconds though and by the time the waiter had hurried over to ask if she was ok she was well enough to wave him off, excusing it as just a dizzy spell.

"I'm fine, Bon, I'm _fine_. Sit down. I just keep passing out when I think too much about it because the magic is only half unbound. Probably Simon has the same problem, too. I mean, technically yes, he's sort of blood. In a strictly genetic sense. But he's been disowned, you know? He's literally cut off from the family magic." she explained quietly, keeping one eye on the worried waiters hovering by the bar with glasses of water in hand in case the pretty young lady with all the money took ill again before she could pay the bill.

"I don't understand. It's another pureblood thing, right?"

"Right. He's got some chromosomes in common with me and no amount of ritual can change that. But his blood doesn't sing to the tune of Abadeer family magic anymore. The wards don't recognise him as one of us, the elves have to be instructed to serve him, the family heirlooms won't respond to him. He's not an Abadeer."

"So, wow. I hate to think what happened to the illegitimate children of pureblood families in centuries past."

"Eh, mostly they were discreetly provided for and kept out of sight and out of mind. You don't need to be acknowledged by the master or mistress of the family to qualify for the name and magic, exactly. Just not to be outright disowned, like he was. He disgraced the name so badly that the family removed all claim from him. As far as society cares, he's as low as a mu- nobody." Marceline finished sheepishly. Bonnie glared at her and took an unnecessarily vicious bite of her extremely rare steak.

"I hope for your sake you were about to say 'muggleborn' and not some kind of slur." she muttered angrily.

"I just meant in the sort of circles my father frequents, people of your heritage are considered lesser than people who can trace their family tree back to Caligula. Personally I think it's stupid, but you did ask about history. Babe, we're an old family with old attitudes. I'm trying, for you, but sometimes you've gotta meet me halfway."

She reached out and put one hand on top of the clenched fist Bonnie held the steak knife in and the redhead forced herself to relax.

"I know, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just sensitive about it." Bonnie sighed.

They both made an effort to stay to more neutral topics for the rest of dinner after Bonnie had extracted a promise from her girlfriend that she'd immediately share information on her former brother as soon as it became available. It was hard, knowing that he'd remain largely a mystery until Midwinter, but there was nothing they could do. So they resolved to enjoy their night together instead and let the former Abadeer man simply slide from their thoughts for now. After dinner Bonnie introduced Marceline to how hailing a muggle cab worked and they made their way across town to the evening's entertainment. It was already legendary in certain circles, brand new and full of shaved headed women in leather jackets and chains irreverently dancing together, kissing, touching, in a way neither of them had ever seen out in public before. The cabbie gave them a shady look as Bonnie handed some muggle money to him but she was too busy watching the front of the building where music and whirring disco lights and feminine laugher were spilling out into the night. It pulsed around them and set the air trembling as a rhythmic bassline accompanied a masculine voice telling them to _relax! Don't do it!_

"This place is crazy." Bonnie breathed reverently.

"Crazy awesome!" Marcy agreed enthusiastically. They joined the line of women outside waiting for entry, heads bobbing along to the music, and it wasn't long before they were at the doors.

"Woah, hold up, kids. ID?" the large, shaved headed woman on the door aksed as Marceline went to move past her. She glanced out of the side of her eye at Bonnie who made the barest, smallest gesture of _I'll handle it_.

"Of course. Here you go." she replied sweetly, holding out a completely blank piece of card with her left hand while manipulating her wand up her sleeve with her right until it was pointing at the muggle woman. " _Confundus."_

The muggle's eyes went a little out of focus as she stared at the card, looked intently at Bonnie's face, and waved her inside. Marceline just lifted up her hand as though she was holding something and the woman nodded to her, letting her pass with a vacant kind of smile.

"I love magic." Bonnie sighed as they made their way to the bar.

"I love _you_." Marceline grinned. "And you know what? We're right here in the middle of a bar full of nothing but lesbians and we finally have nothing to be afraid of. Come here."

Next second she'd swept Bonnie into her arms and was kissing her enthusiastically, with the cheers and encouragements of the crowd blending in with the music and making the redhead grin through the kiss.

"Come on, drinks." she finally murmured against her girlfriend's lips, before leading her off to the bar and ordering for them both.

By the time the early morning sunlight was beginning to stain the sky the bar staff were gently encouraging the last few stragglers out and away down the street. That young couple, the redhead and the vaguely Indian looking girl, were the last to leave, still giggling together and clearly more intoxicated with young love that then few drinks they'd bought. The doorwoman had watched them dance the night away with their arms around each other, barely breaking eye contact long enough to take a sip of their cocktails, and then when the night ended and the club lights came up she watched them away down the street with a fond smile. They reminded her of her first girlfriend way back when she'd been eighteen and newly out too. Still a little fuzzy headed but generally happy for them and content with her life, she did a final check around the bar before locking up and heading home herself. Nobody noticed wide, unblinking eyes from too low down in the shadowy doorway across the street staring at the young couple and finally disappearing with a quiet _pop!_


	7. Chapter 7

**I've been catching up with my stories, guys, and I'm feeling good about writing again. So expect that the next few chapters of various ongoing stuff will be coming out in pretty good time, it's been a while since I felt healthy enough to post regularly. In personal news, I finally got an MRI scan on my back so hopefully soon I'll have a date for corrective spinal surgery. Good news for me because I hear the ability to walk more than three steps without crippling agony is pretty rad, but good news for you guys because it probably means an extended recover period off work with nothing to but lie very still and write. I can't promise that some of it won't be painkiller addled nonsense but the way I heard it most classic authors wrote their masterpieces while high on opioids anyway.**

 **So there are notes to go with this chapter! There are always notes. I just feel like Simon would be a Ravenclaw, don't you think? Damocles Belby is a minor in-world HP character and if you recognise him then you already know what the advert in the _Prophet_ was all about. The White Wyvern can be found at the Universal Studios Wizarding World Of Harry Potter in Orlando which I've never been to but *sigh* one day. So it's kinda canon. Most of the werewolf lore is my own invention but I liked the way it fit into the story. If you squint real hard at the end you might just recognise a HP character.**

 **Content Warning: mysteries, reveals, feels. Not much anyone would find triggering, I don't think?**

* * *

Jake had never been inside an old pureblood mansion before. He didn't like it one bit. For starters, the decor was all creepy Addams Family crap, big heavy drapes and imposing gothic architecture designed to make him feel as poor and insignificant as possible. It didn't help that the room they'd been asked to wait in was lined with portraits of deceased Abadeer ancestors, all staring down in judgement at him and Lady, whispering behind their hands to one another. He was certain he heard the word 'mudblood' more than once. Was it ok to call out a portrait for using a slur?

And then there were the house elves. They all wore a striped red and white towel toga and bowed deferentially, staring at him with their big creepy eyes and floppy bat ears. They wigged him out.

"The mistress is not home this morning." one of them finally announced, popping back into existence in front of them and bowing so low her nose brushed the ground.

"Ok, so we'll wait. Any idea when she'll be home?" Lady asked suspiciously. It couldn't be clearer from her tone that she thought there was a good chance that her friend's girlfriend might have been chopped into little pieces and buried all over the grounds.

"No, miss. I is sorry, we is not knowing where the mistress has gone. She has not slept in her bed tonight, miss. Perhaps she is visiting with friends?"

"Perhaps. But even still, we need to speak to her. So we'll wait."

They weren't getting rid of her that easily, Lady thought. The house elf bowed again and disappeared.

"I'm no expert on house elves but did she seem cagey to you?" Jake muttered in an undertone once they were alone.

"Something feels off about this." Lady replied quietly.

Jake turned to his girlfriend and met her eyes. They'd been dating since the end of fourth year, he knew her as well as he knew himself. And while she was no huge fan of Marceline she knew the other woman was Jake's friend and she didn't want Bonnie to get hurt either, so she cared about Marceline if only as an extension of the people she loved. Jake could see it written clearly on his girlfriend's face; if anything had happened to their friend then her family were in a world of trouble.

"Ah, two faces I hadn't expected to see so soon! Mr Madigan, Ms Kil Whan. I believe you've something to give to my niece?"

"Professor Petrikov?"Jake asked in surprise when he looked up. The retired Charms professor was the last person he'd expected to see there.

"Wait, you're the same Uncle Simon that Marcy used to talk about?" Lady added.

"The very same. I'm afraid she's not here, I believe she had a rendezvous with a close friend last night and I assume she slept there. Chances are she's still asleep. But I can guarantee you there's no reason to be concerned." the older man replied with a disarming smile. Lady assessed him with a long stare.

"Is she by any chance out with a mutual friend of mine?" she finally asked. Professor Petrikov inclined his head, smiling a little.

"Nothing gets past you, young lady. She's been indisposed here for a few days and didn't have time to let anyone know where she'd disappeared to, I'm not terribly surprised you came by to check on her. And I assume it was on the request of her... friend? But I promise you, nothing is wrong with my niece. She hasn't been quietly left in a shallow grave, you can call off the search party."

"I, uh, I just came to give her the book back." Jake lied uncomfortably, holding up Marceline's copy of _Aerial Acrobatics: The Chaser's Handbook_. Professor Petrikov took it and flicked through the pages, smiling wistfully.

"Ah yes. I used to fly for Ravenclaw back in my school days, we took the Quidditch Cup twice. You're also a Chaser, Mr Madigan?"

"I'm, uh, a switch. Chaser or Beater depending on where they want me." he replied uncomfortably, ignoring the slightly knowing smirk his girlfriend was shooting him.

"Well I doubt very much that there's a single tactic in this book that Marceline hasn't already memorised, but I'll make sure it gets back to her nevertheless. Thank you for bringing it back. If you're ever down in Wales do give my regards to our mutual friend, Ms Kil Whan. Shall I show the two of you out?"

He left them no room for argument so reluctantly Lady and Jake allowed themselves to be ushered from the reception room and back out into the windswept gardens. And as they turned at the edge of the wards to say a final goodbye to Professor Petrikov, Lady caught sight of a man loitering in the shadow of the doorway watching them.

"Sir, who is that?" she asked curiously before she could think better of it. He turned to look and for a moment she was sure she saw an angry frown crease the face of their usually laid back professor.

"That's nobody. Just a visitor. He's not family." Professor Petrikov replied quietly, still staring at the man who caught his eye and disappeared back inside with a shrug. It was strange, Lady thought. She had a vague idea that he also had dusky skin and jet black hair like Marceline, similar features and that same air of casual arrogance, but the more she tried to fix his features in her mind the more he seemed to slip through her memory like he'd never been there. She shook it off, something in her brain told her it was unimportant, and instead turned to shake Professor Petrikov's hand.

"Thank you for dropping by, I'm sure Marceline will be sad to have missed you." he told them both. Then he lowered his voice and glanced back at the house, but nobody was watching from the doorway now. "If you head on down to Ms Sugar's place she's likely still there, although I would advise you to knock before entering and give them time to throw a robe on. Ah, the passion of young love. Off you go now."

He turned and ambled back across the unkempt lawn towards the house. Jake watched his retreating back with a pensive expression on his broad features.

"Was that weird to you?" he asked after a long moment.

"Was what weird?" Lady replied.

"That he didn't want to tell us who that other guy was. He was too young to be Marcy's father and she's an only child. Petrikov said he wasn't family but he had the same hair as her. Doesn't it make your spidey senses tingle even a little?"

"My... what senses?"

"Spidey senses. Like in Spiderman? Never mind, it's a muggleborn thing. I still wanna know who that guy was though."

"Wait, what guy? What are you talking about, Jake?"

Jake frowned, confused. Just a moment earlier he'd said... something. Something bothered him. But he wasn't sure what it was now, and it sounded like he urgently needed to introduce his girlfriend to muggle comics. So they clasped hands instead and disapparated together, making for South Wales and the cabin where their friends were probably nursing a pair of matching hangovers. Neither of them saw a masculine face that was too similar to Marceline's not to be related watching them from one of the first floor windows.

...

There was nothing to be afraid of. Bonnie repeated that over and over to herself as she made her way from Diagon Alley's bright, open streets to the dingy cobbles of Knockturn Alley with her hood pulled low across her face and eyes darting nervously. Full anonymity was guaranteed. The advert had said so and she had the opportunity to change the fate of her species. Just because whoever had placed the ad had decided to meet in the bad part of town didn't mean there was anything dodgy about the actual work they were offering, right? Besides, she couldn't just depend on Marceline to support her forever. She couldn't be a Healer anymore but she was bright and an excellent academic, she could write for journals and sell her articles under a pen name at least and do whatever work she could find. It was a matter of pride. Bonnie wasn't going to be a kept woman. Wolf. Whatever, she thought to herself. She was going to find out what the deal was with this lycanthropic test subject job and she'd decide from there what to do.

 _Trap!_ the wolf snarled in her brain. _Stupid!_

 _If it was a trap then why would they want to meet in a pub full of witnesses?_ she thought back with the mental equivalent of a sigh.

The instructions had come by owl a week previous. Go to the pub, order a specific and unusual drink, wait for whoever this DB character was to approach her. It sounded simple enough, and there was plenty of opportunity for her to linger in the shadows before ordering, observe the rest of the patrons there before she made herself known. The wolf growled again but its power was so limited this far from the full moon, she could barely hear it against the general background chatter of a busy mind. There was the pub, up a flight of steps next to a murky looking tattoo shop. The White Wyvern, It wasn't even the seediest bar in town, she'd be fine. Bonnie hurried up the steps and pushed the door open before she lost her nerve.

It was surprisingly homey inside, there was plenty of patrons on the carved wooden benches around a central fire pit that cast a warm glow all the way up to the exposed rafters. The air was warm with the scent of mulled mead and roasting meat, someone in the corner was singing a bawdy song about a large chested warrior witch and her murderous lover. She'd been expecting that the moment she walked through the door the crowd would somehow sense what she was, that they'd turn and stare. But nobody even looked up from their drinks. After all her internal panic it was almost anti-climatic.

Bonnie took her time to look around herself, committing the face of every single person there to memory before approaching the bar. She remembered the drink she was supposed to order although there was no chance in hell she was actually going to let it anywhere near her mouth. The graduation prize in Potions hadn't been awarded to her just for her looks.

"Hey. I'll have a Hooded Monk, please." Bonnie told the heavyset barman when he shambled her way. He grunted and reached behind himself for the ingredients to mix up the cocktail. Bonnie watched him work closely, nodding to herself when he added a heaped spoon of powdered monkshood to a mixture of black vodka and Gillywater. A handful of juniper berries finished the drink and he passed it across, taking the single galleon she'd left on the bar as payment. Bonnie pulled her wand out and tapped the side of the glass, muttering a basic switching charm to replace the berries with honey before she even thought about lifting it to her lips.

"You know, I've watched four of your kind sit there and almost poison themselves, three more sniff their drink and leave it untouched. You're the first one who realised a Hooded Monk contained monkshood and would be poisonous to a... child of the moon. You're a potioneer?"

She turned to find herself being addressed by the older, balding man who'd been reading that morning's _Daily Prophet_ by the fire. He wiped his hand on his robes before holding it out with a disarming smile.

"Damocles Belby. I'm the one who placed the advert." he told her when she continued to stare at him. "Would you prefer to go someplace more private to speak, Miss...?"

"If you think I'm telling you my name out here in front of a roomful of strangers when you just tried to poison me then you're even stupider than I'd first thought." Bonnie stated flatly. He just shrugged, nodded to the barman and motioned for her to follow him to a side room off the main bar area. It was probably a terrible idea but Bonnie was curious as well as angry, she wanted to know what the hell he was playing at. So despite her better judgement she followed.

"You replaced the berries with sugar?" he asked the moment the door was closed behind her. "That's smart, knowing how to render the monkshood ineffective. You know your potions ingredients. Why don't you sit down and I'll explain why I instructed you to buy a drink poisonous to werewolves."

Bonnie took the stool by the fire and lifted her drink to her lips, taking a long and deliberate mouthful of it to prove just how harmless she'd made his poison. Of course she knew that adding anything sugary to monkshood would make it into little more than a herb garnish with a slightly medicinal taste and of course she knew that in its unaltered form it was one of the only things that could seriously harm a werewolf.

"I'm listening." she murmured when he continued to simply stare at her, trying to see her face beneath the heavy hood.

"The monkshood was just to prove that you are what I advertised for. I can hardly march up to an applicant and just demand to know if they're a werewolf or not right there in the bar, now can I? But you, you might just be the most interesting werewolf I've spoken to so far. You know your potions ingredients, you know lycanthropy and you're young, unknown. A free agent. How old are you, Miss? Your voice says no more than twenty at most, your hands look soft and you're not yet accustomed to heavy drinking, I can tell from the way you handle that cocktail. I'm trying to develop a potion to help ease the symptoms of the transformations. A younger, healthier test subject would be ideal. I can pay you for your time." Damocles added.

"And why would you care what happens to werewolves?" Bonnie asked coldly. She hadn't been a Slytherin but she knew a thing or two about the best way to get information out of someone. This Damocles Belby was a nervous talker; the less she said the more he revealed to fill up the uncomfortable silences.

"I... I've seen what this disease does to those afflicted. Suffice to say, I have personal reasons to want to help. Promises to keep. I'm afraid I'll need to know your name if you're interested in working with me though, I can't go revealing all of my secrets to a stranger."

"My name is Bonnibel Sugar. I was bitten a month and a half ago, this is pretty new to me." Bonnie admitted with a sigh. She lowered her hood and let him see her face. What she hadn't been expecting was the way his eyes widened and how he stared at her.

"Forgive me, Miss Sugar. You look to be not much younger than my daughter." he muttered after a long moment. "To be cursed so young... But you know your potions, alright. At the moment all I need is someone who can help me figure out the exact amount of monkshood that would incapacitate the inner wolf without physically damaging the human. It will hurt, it will make you sick. But if we can fine tune this potion I'm working on we might be able to keep the human mind intact while the wolf takes only physical shape. You'd stay aware throughout the full moon. Monkshood is known by many names, but what first drew me to it's potential was that it is sometimes known as-"

"Wolfsbane." she finished for him. "One of the only poisons aside from silver that can kill us. How do I know you're not going to poison me, Mr Belby?"

"Because you'd be administering the dose yourself. I have a basic potion worked out, I can give you the recipe. What I need is for you to experiment with the dose and formulation. Do you think you can handle brewing it?"

"If I have access to the ingredients, yes. Powdered wolfsbane isn't cheap and I'm sure you've already figured out that my kind find employment hard to come by."

"I'll arrange for my associate to owl the ingredients to you monthly. He's a taciturn fellow but he has contacts in the apothecary business I can only dream of."

"And when will I get to meet this mysterious associate of yours?" Bonnie asked, intrigued. If she was going to be slowly poisoning herself for the greater good she'd prefer to know who was sending her the ingredients. But Damocles winced and shook his head.

"The deal with him is that he'll only assist me with the same anonymity guarantee as my test subjects. I'm afraid it will all be owl correspondence, he doesn't want his reputation tarnished by association." he replied.

"Then he's either a werewolf adept at hiding his condition or someone who owes you a serious favour."

"He's... in a difficult position. And that is all I am permitted to say on the subject. But there are some general health questions we need to run through first. Do you have any allergies, are you already using any potions or substances for recreational purposes, is there any chance that you're pregnant?"

"No, no, and absolutely no. No allergies, not a drug addict, definitely not pregnant. Anything else?"

"Nothing I can think of for now. So what do you say, Miss Sugar? Are you on board?"

She stared at him for a long moment, ignoring the forlorn howling in her head. There was no trace of dishonesty in his gaze and even without payment the lure of a challenge was tempting. To create a potion that wasn't supposed to exist with ingredients that under any other circumstances would be lethal without anyone finding out she'd been involved? It was almost too perfect.

"Full anonymity and payment up front for the first month then directly into my Gringotts account two days before every full moon after that."

"Of course."

"I want a copy of all of your research notes too, and any reference material you have."

"Absolutely. I'd be happy to have a fresh pair of eyes look over it."

"And you'll let me experiment at my own pace, add or remove whatever ingredients I see fit?"

"You drive a hard bargain, Miss Sugar. So long as you keep meticulous notes of your experiments I can agree to those terms."

"Then yes, I will help you."

...

The first week was fine, it barely even affected her. The second week was a lot like what she thought dying must feel like.

"Babe, you gotta stop doing this to yourself. You look like hell." Marcy told her when Bonnie had finally finished retching her guts up for the fifth time that morning.

"Can't. Need the money and I want to figure out this potion." Bonnie replied scratchily.

"I can support you! You don't need the money, you don't need to live in this crappy little cabin and you don't need to poison yourself! Bon, this is crazy, you-"

"I'm trying to help other werewolves as well as finding a little independence, is that so wrong?" the redhead interrupted. The constant nausea and stabbing abdominal pains were fraying her temper and she had no time for her girlfriend's fussing, she needed to check on her third batch of potion. Just as soon as she found the strength to stand.

"I'm just worried about you. This isn't worth killing yourself over."

"Do you know how many wizards would murder me without a thought the moment they discover what I am? And do you realise that all they'd have to tell the aurors was that I was scaring them and they feared for their lives? It wouldn't even go to court. It's not worth killing myself over? So what do you expect me to do, Marceline? Sit around looking pretty waiting for you to swing by for your twice-weekly oral sex appointment for the rest of my life? We can't all waste our lives messing around with a bass guitar and waiting to inherit an obscene amount of money. Some of us have to struggle to survive. And if you think for one second that I'm just going to sit on my ass and wait for you to charge in and rescue me like I'm some swooning damsel in distress then you're dead wrong. I need to do this and I don't have time for you to be an asshole about it. So either make yourself useful and help me up to check on the potion or get out of here."

Marceline's jaw set in frustration and she didn't say another word but she was still very gentle when she slid her arms underneath her girlfriend and hoisted her up across her shoulders. She carried the redhead down into the cellar where her potions lab was set up next to the shining silver cage, deposited her on the cushioned chair by the desk then turned and marched from the room before the redhead could say another word. Bonnie watched her go with a sigh. She was tired, aching, frustrated by the difficult research. It wasn't fair to take it out on Marceline and she knew it, but the full moon was only three days away and her self control was ebbing beneath a relentless tide of lycanthropic rage. Soon even the most basic logical reasoning would be impossible for her, it would take all of her self control to just keep from clawing at her own arms and craving raw meat right from the ice box. She could feel herself becoming more wolf with every passing minute and she hated it.

 _Hate you!_ the wolf snarled in her head. _Apologise!_

 _I can't, she already left,_ Bonnie thought dejectedly.

 _Hate you! You made the master hurt. Soon I make you hurt._

The coming transformation was going to be hell, she already knew that. The wolf hadn't been at all pleased with her attempts to poison it, now she'd pissed off her girlfriend in a moment of instinctive anger too. So when there was a knock at the door upstairs a couple of hours later she was relieved. Bonnie absolutely didn't have the strength to go out and find her girlfriend.

"Peppermint, could you get that?" she called, knowing he'd hear from wherever the house elf disappeared to when she had no need of him. A minute later she heard footsteps on the cellar stairs.

"I wanted to come look for you but I didn't know you if you'd gone home and I didn't want to risk incineration by crazy old pureblood wards." Bonnie started, keeping her eyes on the gently bubbling cauldron instead of turning to meet the figure now standing behind her chair. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I do appreciate everything you do for me, keeping me fed and protected even thought you risk being disowned by your father every time you sneak away to see me. You know I love you, right?"

"I... am flattered? But I suspect I'm not the gentleman caller you anticipated." an unfamiliar voice replied softly. Bonnie whirled in her chair to lock eyes with him and her wolf snarled fiercely as soon as she registered the amber ring around the man's eyes.

 _Werewolf! Older, stronger, threat! Protect the master!_

 _The master isn't here, dumbass. Let me handle this_.

"Damocles sent you." she announced after a tense moment. He broke eye contact and looked down, smiling shyly. He looked to be not that much older than she was, maybe five years or so, but his sandy hair was already streaked with grey and his face was lined with worry and faint scars. Was that what she had to look forward to? It was the least of her problems but Bonnie had a moment of petty vanity, she didn't want to become prematurely aged and permanently exhausted.

"Damocles isn't available to come see you right now but he asked me to drop by and check how you were feeling prior to your first transformation with the prototype potion in your system." the man told her, coming forward to crouch by her chair. A moment later Peppermint was there waving his hand and a second chair materialised along with a plate of cakes and a tea tray on the desk.

"I, uh, I didn't smell you. I mean, you know. Werewolf senses. Because of the potion, the fumes. I thought you were someone else." Bonnie muttered, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you. I'm Remus, I was told you'd be expecting me."

Damocles had told her one of the other werewolves in the study would make contact to check on her, she'd just assumed it would be via owl like all of her other correspondence since the day they'd met at the pub. Remus struck her as someone with a certain quiet dignity despite his condition, she wondered how long he'd been afflicted if he could speak so calmly that close to the full moon.

"I made some adjustments to the basic formulation, the wolfsbane didn't seem to be affecting me at all for a while. I thought that since the base has powdered asphodel perhaps they were counteracting each other so I switched it out for star-grass but now I feel like I'm slowly dying. This batch I'm brewing now has an equal split of the two so hopefully I'll be able to fine tune it and get some middle ground. Are you testing the potion, too?" Bonnie asked him.

"No, just contacting the other werewolves who are in the project. I'm the control subject, since I'm most adept at handling my transformations alone. I was bitten as a child, this is nothing new for me. But I hear that we're only onto your second transformation. How are you handling it?" he asked her gently, with a brotherly air. Bonnie hesitated. But if she couldn't open up to another werewolf, one who was involved in the same study and had no reason to deceive her, then who could she open up to? The urge to just open her mouth and let her whirling thoughts spill out was irresistible.

"Will I ever be able to control my temper around people this close to the moon?" she asked quietly. He sighed and stared down into the cauldron before answering.

"Yes and no. If they spend enough time with you to know how you get then they'll know which buttons not to press. And you'll get more used to how you react as the wolf exerts more influence over your mind every month. But it'll never be easy. You're going to need a will of iron, Bonnibel. And whichever young man you ran out of here with your wolf temper earlier is going to need to learn not to antagonise you. In a way you're lucky. Most werewolves live alone, or with our own kind. I assume your paramour isn't carrying our curse?" he replied.

"I... no. She's a human. Look, uh, I didn't mean to get this personal this quick. You only just met me. I'm just feeling a little isolated and emotional." she told him awkwardly. But Remus nodded like he understood.

"All the more important that you have someone to talk to, then. I've been there and I've seen a lot of newly infected werewolves go through the same thing, it's not unusual for you to feel immediately at ease around your own kind even if your human mind finds it hard to understand. And since we're opening up too much too quick because, I assume, I'm the first of our species you've met since being bitten? I get it. Our instinct is to form a pack, we're not good at emotional barriers this close to the moon. So. Your girl's a pureblood?"

"How did you..?"

"I walked in here and the first thing you told me was you'd have come looking but you didn't want to risk incineration by pureblood wards. There's only one type of pureblood property with those kind of protections anymore, and they're inhabited by the oldest families. For what it's worth, I think you need to tread carefully. How long has your family had magic?" he asked instead, It was a personal question but the wolf in her head had already decided Remus was a friend, pack. A brother. She had no will to hold back from him,

"Just me and my little brother in this generation. The cabin belonged to my great uncle though, Martyn Gumbol. He was a potioneer back in the day, he worked against Grindlewald and later he was accused of helping the muggles in the second world war. There were others too, further back. So I'm muggleborn but I guess I also have a family heritage to live up to."

"A gay muggleborn werewolf and the daughter of an old pureblood family. You realise this can only end badly, yes?" he told her softly.

"She's not like them. She doesn't care what I am, she loves me for me. And I don't care what she is. If her father disowned her and we both ended up in the gutter begging for spare change I'd still love her." Bonnie replied with a frown.

"You remind me so much of myself at your age. Before I lose my hope and faith. Look, I'm not saying that she's about to try to cut your head off with a silver axe any day now, just that... If you weren't raised like that then it's almost impossible to understand all their little idiosyncrasies from the outside. Sometimes you think you know someone, think you love them and they love you. And then they betray you and everyone you love for an ideology you can't understand. Old purebloods aren't like you and me, Bonnibel. They'll always think they're better, that they're above the law and above morals. Please, whoever this girl is, don't let her so far in that she could destroy your life with a single word."

"You don't know her. She wouldn't betray me." Bonnie snapped. Her temper was flaring again and he put a calming hand on her shoulder.

"I hope you're right. For your own sake, and for hers. We should be going over the potion modifications though, Damocles didn't send me here just to depress you with my misanthropy. Do you keep a notebook?"

It was strange, Bonnie thought when Remus left, how much she'd enjoyed the company of someone she didn't have to pretend with. Someone who understood that she was emotionally and physically exhausted and didn't think it was weird that she could talk to him like she'd know him for years. But she wondered which pureblood had broken his heart and destroyed his faith in love. And when Marcy finally returned with a bunch of exquisite roses for her and _oh Merlin!_ the juiciest fillet steaks she'd ever tasted Bonnie couldn't keep from throwing her arms around her girlfriend's neck and begging her forgiveness. Perhaps it was love, or perhaps the wolf had taken matters into its own hands and wasn't letting her be angry anymore. Most importantly, Bonnie realised she didn't care.

"I love you. I'm sorry." Bonnie whispered for the hundredth time that night as they lay curled beneath the blankets together.

"I know, babe. I love you too. I just needed time to think today, And if this study is so important to you then I'll be right behind you every step of the way. I just don't want you to ever worry about where your next meal is coming from or how you'll keep a roof over your head. I love you, and we're a team. I know you'd do this for me if it was the other way around." Marcy whispered back. "Now get some sleep, love. You've got a hard day's potion nerding tomorrow and you're sick. I'll be right here if you need anything in the night."

Bonnie thought back to the empty look in Remus' eyes when he talked about how purebloods could betray someone they loved without any warning. He was wrong, she thought. He had to be.


	8. Chapter 8

**I finally figured out a comfortable position to sit in and write despite my fragile spine! Maybe I'm just on a roll tonight but I really enjoyed researching and writing this chapter. Paganism is so interesting, even if I don't believe in it I still think there's something inherently beautiful about nature worship. Be warned, this chapter is heavy on the pagan symbolism. The language that Marceline is speaking is a form of Gaelic, widely believed to be the indigenous language of Britain before the Roman conquest and almost certainly the language of the ancient pagans and druids. I included the translation for you guys too though so no need to go look it up. It just seemed to make sense to me that most of the 'established' wand based magic has a Latin or Greek root so the magic that came before would be Gaelic in nature and probably rooted into the ancient pagan culture of the land. It's not really canon established but I liked how it fit with the story.**

 **My lovely friends SanguineSovereign and AUBurnSky93 are writing an awesome fic! It's called In Plain Sight and if you've not gone and checked out the first chapter yet go and do it because it's shaping up to be super awesome and intriguing and honestly I have no idea where it's going and I'm excited to find out. Give them love because they're both super amazing people and their story is brilliant.**

 **Content warning: some lore-building info dumping I'm afraid, implied ladysexing, paganism, Gaelic language, ritual blood letting, deliberate injury.**

* * *

Marceline had been involved in a lot of devious plots in her time but this one might just be the most convoluted yet. It was either pure genius or completely insane, she couldn't quite decide which. But summer was gone and the autumn equinox was breathing down her neck. She was about to find out more about her brother and his crimes and there was no way she was having that happen without Bonnie close by in case she needed her. Who knew what Marshall had done to earn himself ten years in Azkaban and a formal disowning? She'd been no slouch at Defence Against The Dark Arts and wizarding law, she'd already worked out that he'd been imprisoned a little before the worst of the war against Voldemort had happened, before the aurors had been authorised to ship people off to the prison without trial. He'd gotten ten years and not a life sentence. That told her a lot about what he hadn't done at least. He hadn't murdered anyone and he hadn't used an Unforgivable Curse. Those crimes both carried a life sentence. She considered breaking into the records at the Ministry again but it had been risky enough the first time and with how stressed her father was these days he didn't need to have to bail her out if she was caught. Plus there was no guarantee she'd even remember the information after she'd read it, the blood-enhanced fidelius charm was still in the process of being undone. So instead Marceline tried to carry on as normal, spending as much time with Bonnie in her cabin in Wales as she could, avoiding Marshall like the plague at Moor House and rehearsing with the Scream Queens as often as her band mates' schedules would allow.

And that brought her back to her plan. Autumn equinox, how to sneak Bonnie into Moor House without triggering the wards.

"This is insane." the redhead informed her from where she was sprawled across her pillows. They lay together listening to the relentless Welsh rain hammering against the cabin's roof, snug beneath a luxurious duck down blanket that Peppermint had provided without prompting as soon as the weather began to turn.

"It's an ancient pagan ritual to bind together the essence of two people in a bond of magic and blood." Marceline explained. "And it seems like our only shot at getting you into the party unless you want to end up as part of the bonfire when the wards taste your curse. Look, it's temporary. You're not going to be my adopted twin for long."

"I just don't like how it feels. Twins? I'd be your sister as far as magic and blood are concerned. It makes what you and I do pretty fucking incestuous and wrong."

"No, only if we do the nasty while we're still bonded. It's an exchange of your essence with mine so the wards will recognise you as an Abadeer and your werewolf blood won't matter anymore. It's just for one night, Bon. Fool the wards, sneak into the Meán Fómhair ball in disguise, hide just outside of the Sacred Grove while I help Daddy perform the ritual, get back out before the blood magic wears off and you become a Sugar again. What could go wrong? It's simplicity itself."

"Ok, leaving aside for a moment that this is completely insane and creepy and perverted, why is there even an ancient pureblood ritual to temporarily adopt someone into a family?" Bonnie asked. Marceline could see she wasn't completely sold on the plan but they'd examined it from every angle, this was their best shot.

"Bastards." she replied with a crooked smile. "Our bloodline is sooo pure and we'd never ever debase ourselves by leaving halfblood bastards around the place. So if a little indiscretion with an impure bloodline was blessed with magical progeny in the past there was a way around it becoming a messy situation. Adopt the kid as a twin or sibling and raise them along with your legitimate offspring then when they're an adult you can ship them off someplace distant so they're not around to mess up the inheritance when you kick it. It's why so many pureblood families have branches in the former colonies, everyone knew what was happening but nobody talked about it openly. We're just setting it up for a temporary adoption though, you don't need to worry about being sent to Hong Kong or something."

"So you do the ritual and make me technically your twin sister just for the night, which is still so fucked up I can't even get my head around it. Then I can get past the wards, then what?"

"Well the autumn equinox is an important day, magically. Meán Fómhair, The Feast of the Witch's Thanksgiving. Its not something they teach at Hogwarts, it's part of the Old Way. Way back when most of northern Europe was pagan and the druids controlled the magical community Meán Fómhair was important as the festival of humbling, the balance point between light and dark, the living and the dead, humanity and nature. It's powerful, ancient. Like, it's the crossroads of the whole Wheel of the Year. I've been to a few of the balls as a kid but this is gonna be my first as an adult. Tradition is to hold a masquerade ball for all the old pureblood families, all the ones who still observe even a little of the Old Ways. Everyone is in enchanted masks, it's a symbolic humbling. The guests are required to stay anonymous, nobody will know who anyone but their own family are so nobody can hold power or political rank over anyone else. The idea is that everyone is equal in the eyes of the Old Way. Nobody will see your face and nobody's allowed to ask your name. That's the whole deal with the Meán Fómhair ball, it's a time when alliances and feuds are put to one side so we can just appreciate the simple wonder of the magic all around us. And it'll be a half moon too, I already checked. Another balance point, halfway between full and new moon. This is a very auspicious year as far as the Old Ways go and it's our family's turn to host the ball. That's why I'm confident we can pull this off."

Bonnie sighed again and ran a hand through her hair in agitation. For a Muggleborn it must be a lot to take in, it wasn't a part of pureblood culture that translated well outside of the select families raised into the ancient traditions. It was obvious to Marceline that her girlfriend was stressed, worried about the plan and feeling the effects of the werewolf calming potion she was still working on. This latest batch had left her restless and itchy, she wasn't sure if it was an allergic reaction to one of the ingredients or if she'd simply put too much of an irritant into the mix. She'd been on edge for days now and Marcy was running out of ways to help calm her. The bed creaked as she slid closer to the redhead, there was only one way to distract Bonnie for long when she felt like this.

"We're gonna do this, it's gonna be fine. I promise, babe." Marceline murmured, slow and soft with feather light kisses brushing the intensely sensitive skin of her girlfriend's neck. Just as she'd predicted Bonnie shivered and rolled towards her to press a hungry kiss against her lips. If fucking her girlfriend to the point of exhaustion was the only way to get her to sleep then Marceline was more than happy to oblige. She let herself be pushed onto her back and pinned to the mattress with inhuman strength as those same warm, eager lips explored her curves. Merlin, she hoped this side effect of the potion was permanent.

...

Getting Hunson's blood was the hardest part, that's why Marceline didn't tell Bonnie that they'd need it when she relayed the steps of the temporary magical adoption to her. It had to be timed precisely and acted with perfect innocence so as not to draw his suspicion and it was the very morning of the Meán Fómhair ball before Marceline got her chance. She caught him at breakfast with a graceless trip on the hem of her robe and a paper thin teacup that shattered against his arm as he instinctively flung himself forward to catch her.

"There, no harm done." Hunson assured her as he healed the thin cut at the side of his wrist with a murmur. The napkin stained with a couple of drops of his blood had already disappeared into Marcy's pocket before she'd struggled up off the ground and his cleaning charms only removed the spilled tea from her sleeves and plucked the shards of porcelain from her hair.

"Sorry, Daddy." Marceline murmured, looking down in fake humility.

"Never worry. I was not particularly fond of that tea set anyway. We should go together and choose a new one, hm? A little father-daughter time, make a day of it in Diagon Alley. Your mother used to love Christmas shopping at this time of the year." he replied nostalgically, staring over her head at where Marshall sat ignored and excluded at the very end of the long dining table.

"Um, Daddy?" Marcy prompted when he continued to glare at his disowned son.

"Tonight. We will discuss it further after the ball."

That was code for after the unbinding ritual and it reminded her that she had to get away and go to the Sacred Grove as quickly as possible, perform the ritual before the sun set and the ball commenced.

"I, uh, I need to head out for a while today, Daddy. Rehearsal with the band and then I'm meeting Lydia to go over her formal dance steps one more time before tonight. I'll be back before sundown though."

"You won't discuss details of your mask with her." Hunson warned her with a sharp look as he snapped his gaze back to his daughter. It was a deep disrespect to the semi-sentient magic of the Old Ways to break the masquerade tradition and her childhood bedtime stories had been full of the dire consequences that had befallen foolhardy witches and wizards who'd revealed themselves during the equinox ball.

"No, Daddy. Of course not." Marcy replied demurely. She excused herself from his presence and went directly to her room to fetch her bass and the bag of items for the ritual. This time she'd charmed it against prying eyes; anyone who didn't know the counter-charm would open it and see nothing but makeup and hair products.

Their land was hidden from the local muggles behind the illusion of a ruined monastery, crumbling and dangerous, overgrown with huge stinging nettles and vicious tangles of wild bramble thorns that would shred clothing and skin indiscriminately. And in the centre of it all a twisted knot of trees rose from the relative shelter of a wide hollow. If magical eyes gazed beyond the thick outer circle of holly and ash they would see the tops of three ancient oaks hung heavy with mistletoe, and if a member of the bloodline entered between the oaks they would come to a ring of standing stones that hummed with magic. This was the very centre of the Abadeer sacred grove, a space of unknowable mystery that was held separate from the mundane reality around it. It was to the entrance of the grove that Marceline crept, sacrificial stone knife in hand.

 _"Is e mo fhuil an fhuil agad."_

She murmured the ritual words as she drew the blade across her palm and laid the open cut to bleed against the stone nearest her in payment to the magic and proof of her identity. _My blood is your blood._

The air around her filled with a noise, like tree branches groaning in high wind and sap welling, nature itself answering her call. It was not a voice but it contained the reply she'd expected nevertheless.

 _"Cuir a-steach an cearcall, nighean."_

 _Enter the circle, daughter._

Marceline stepped into the centre of the sacred grove for the very first time in her adult life and fell to her knees in honour of the pure magic that thickened the air all around her. The stones glowed softly and above her head the stars shone despite the daylight outside. This was the well of power her family drew from, the very heart of who they were. And she was about to join Bonnie to it, however briefly. She didn't hesitate.

"I am the Abadeer heir." Marceline spoke quietly as the magic flowed around her, healing her hand and caressing her hair. "And I have need to bring a scion of lesser blood into the family. By her blood, she shall be known."

She carefully poured the small vial of Bonnie's blood into the very centre of the circle and watched the ground absorb it completely, tasting it.

" _A cursed one._ " the trees sighed.

"Her intentions are pure. For this night only, the feast of Meán Fómhair, allow her to be twinned with me. Until the sun rises on the morrow, let her blood flow Abadeer as does mine. By the will of the father let it be sealed."

The few drops of Hunson's blood that she'd carefully recovered from the napkin were poured out next, exactly over the spot where Bonnie's blood had been absorbed. The grove was silent for an immeasurable stretch of time, considering her request.

" _The cursed one will be admitted until the sun rises on the morrow, by the will of the father. If any harm should befall a scion of the family at her hands then there shall be a price to pay by the one who so bound her. Go now, daughter. Meán Fómhair approaches."_

Marceline stood and bowed in turn to the three sacred oaks before hurrying from the circle with her heart pounding. She'd never doubted that she was an Abadeer by birth and blood but having the magic of the sacred grove refer to her as 'daughter' was still mind blowing in its way. To know that she was the sole heir to such incredible power-

"If it wasn't Meán Fómhair tonight I'd drag you before your father myself."

She almost jumped out of her skin, Simon's voice was the last thing she'd expected to hear. Marcy whirled and found herself face to face with her uncle just outside the sacred grove.

"Simon! I, uh, what are you doing out here?"

He simply stared at her with uncharacteristic disapproval in his usually gentle eyes.

"You had better have a very good reason for entering the circle today." Simon finally admonished her. "Is this why you wanted to borrow all my books about the Old Way? Were you performing a ritual?"

"I just wanted to see it for myself." Marceline lied. His eyes narrowed and he held his hand out for the bag slung across her shoulder. She handed it over guiltily and cringed when he muttered the counter-charm perfectly, revealing the empty vials and stone knife.

"Marceline... what have you done?" Simon whispered, horrified. "You evoked the Old Magic on Meán Fómhair, you sacrificed blood inside the sacred grove? Little idiot! Whose blood? What did you ask the grove for?"

She hung her head as the guilt washed over her in thick waves but there was no way she could reveal Bonnie's secret, not even to her beloved uncle. So she retreated into that most Slytherin of deceptions, the morally grey half truth.

"It's only for tonight. I just wanted Bonnie to be able to see the ball, to see the best parts of our culture. She's still a little anxious around purebloods, y'know? Growing up in the aftermath of the war, coming to Hogwarts while the Death Eaters were still active. I want her to see that not everything pureblood is about hating muggles or murdering people. That what matters most to us is the purity of faith in the magic. And nobody will know it's her, you know they won't. I just asked the grove to admit her without upsetting Daddy because he's so stressed already and you know he wouldn't approve."

"Marceline." Simon sighed, shaking his head wearily, "You will be the death of me one of these days, do you know that? You invoked the heart of the sacred grove just to sneak your girlfriend into a party? I'd expected better of you. You're an adult now, it's time to put these juvenile pranks behind you."

"But you won't tell Daddy?" Marcy pressed.

"Only because your father has enough to deal with already, not because I approve. You understand me?"

"You're the best, Simon!"

"Yes yes, I know. Now go on, away from sacred places where you don't belong."

Simon had no chance against the combined powers of the inherited Abadeer charm that his niece radiated with every smile and the subtle influence of the sacred grove already beginning to work on the blood sacrificed within its stone circle. He sighed again and watched her out of sight, beyond the wards until she disappeared into the nothingness of disapparation.

...

The magically enlarged ballroom glittered with decorations, the literal feast of Meán Fómhair Thanksgiving was piled high on the long buffet table that ran along the back wall and as the sun sank below the horizon guests began to apparate at the gate of Moor House. They were met by house elves and escorted into the property, left with a respectful bow to make their own way to the ballroom so as not to identify the family members. A man with the enchanted face of a magnificently horned Ibex bowed low to a woman with the head of a crimson eyed wolf, both wearing robes of deep red that identified them as members of the same core family. That was the only way Marceline knew which of their guests was her father that night, the enchantments on his mask disguised his voice as well as any identifying features. She scanned the crowds, looking for the mask she'd left with Bonnie and the paler red robes that identified her as less closely related to the main branch of the family. There! The wolf mask pulled into a delighted grin when she spotted the face standing alone in one corner nursing a drink and looking decidedly unimpressed with the form her mask had taken. The beauty of the traditional Meán Fómhair masquerade masks was that until the wearer put one on they appeared as blank face masks, they didn't assume their animal form until they were secured at the back of the head. One very unimpressed giant fruit bat in almost pinkish-red robes watched a fierce wolf approach her, grinning from ear to ear.

"I suppose you think that's very funny." Bonnie hissed the moment Marceline was by her side. "A wolf mask, and leaving me with this?"

"I though you'd appreciate the irony. Wit beyond measure and all that." Marcy replied with another wide grin. "Anyway, we're here now, so I guess the ritual worked. I, uh, I got caught. Just by my uncle though, don't worry. He's not gonna tattle on us. Oh Merlin, what the hell is he wearing?"

A man walked past in robes a different shade of reddish to Bonnie's, identifying him as from another offshoot of the main family. But it wasn't his ruddy robes that had caught Marceline's eye. His mask had transformed his entire head into the sleek, majestic shape of an emperor penguin. There were some eccentric masks that evening to be sure but nobody except Simon would turn up to the equinox ball dressed as a penguin. He took a moment to examine their robes and masks before coming forward and bowing.

"Well met, kinsfolk. Even temporary family are welcome tonight." the penguin murmured, inclining his head to Bonnie. She didn't know if a fruit bat's face could convey surprise but it seemed as though the penguin was smiling benignly at her all the same. "Best to be in our own beds before the sun rises again though. The Old Magic does not take kindly to those who linger past their welcome and I see nobody has gifted you with glass slippers, more's the pity. Enjoy the ball."

He left them both open mouthed, staring after him as he weaved off through the crowd.

"What the hell was that about glass shoes?" Marceline muttered in confusion.

"Muggle fairy story. Cinderella was warned to leave the prince's ball by midnight or her fairy godmother's magic would wear off and she'd be revealed as the lowly maid of the vain noblewomen there. She had slippers made of glass and she forgot the time, she had to run when she heard the clock strike midnight. In her haste she dropped a shoe and the prince used it to track her down and identify her. He married her but I don't think that's what your uncle meant. I think he was warning me that if I stay too long my identity will be revealed." Bonnie replied with a sigh.

"He's weird."

"But he's not wrong. When is this ritual happening?"

"Once all the guests are dancing and feasting, we'll slip away to the grove. Daddy will find me and request my assistance, I need you to follow stealthily. Stay outside the grove while we perform the ritual and listen carefully to everything my father says once the unbinding is complete. Write it down if you can. Just in case I forget, I need a record and I want you close by. For now we'll just dance and eat and enjoy the party."

The pureblood dances were like nothing Bonnie had ever seen before; part traditional folk dance and part feverish ballet. The dancers spun around each other with inhuman elegance that was made all the more bizarre by their array of enchanted animal masks. She opened her mouth to ask how they all managed it, only to turn and find Marceline holding out her hand and smiling impishly.

"May I have this dance, milday?"

"Um... how?"

"Just trust me. Let the magic guide you."

Even the music was unfamiliar, as thought the woodland itself was plucking a complex tune from the breeze and hammering out a rhythm against the trunks of the trees. But nevertheless Bonnie took the hand offered to her and allowed herself to be led out amidst the other couples. As the music began to shimmer through the air again she felt the magic thread through her limbs and tug her _this way_ , spin her _like this_ , until she wasn't sure what movements were her own and what was part of the intoxicating power of the enchanted melody.

"Perhaps I might borrow your partner?"

Bonnie spun out of the dance breathless and confused, unsure who'd spoken or why Marceline had stopped. She turned and found they'd been addressed by a tall man with the wide, intimidating face of a huge tiger. He was the only member of the crowd dressed in a simple black robe, there was no colour anywhere to indicate that he belonged to any family in attendance. Marceline was staring at him hard but it was impossible to tell behind her wolf mask what she was thinking.

"Chill, I'll have her back in one piece." the man told her when he noticed the way she was eyeing him. And he seized Bonnie's hand before she could say anything more and spun her back into the dance, leaving Marceline to gape from the sidelines.

"Kinswoman. A word, if I may?"

She turned again and this time it was impossible for her to be certain which relative she was being addressed by. He spoke with a male voice but wore the head of a doe and was dressed in robes that shaded to a darker burgundy, a lesser branch of the family but still acknowledged by Hunson as a blood relative. There were so many distant cousins in various shades of red that it was impossible to place him at first.

"Kinsman. How can I help you?" Marcy asked, keeping one eye on where the strange tiger headed man in the anonymous robes spun Bonnie through impossible shapes on the dance floor.

"Suppose a man owed a favour to a business associate who'd helped him import substances less than completely legal once upon a time. Suppose that same man was recently asked by his associate to owl certain difficult to acquire potions supplies to a specific address in Wales, known among those practitioners of that man's art to be the former home of a famous forebear of one of his ex students. Suppose the man in question had ample evidence that his young and impressionable cousin had become romantically involved with the ex student, and that he had reason to believe she had recently been afflicted with the worst curse known to wizardkind. Might the man be wrong in wondering if his cousin is out of her damn mind?"

Severus, then. She should have known he'd somehow be involved in the stupid werewolf potion, however careful Bonnie thought she was being it was clear that he knew exactly what she was and how they were involved. Marceline considered her answer carefully before replying.

"The younger cousin would probably thank the older cousin for his concern, but she knows what she's doing. She might also wonder if her older cousin had never felt the eternal flame of love kindle within his heart, if he was even capable of understanding what that ex student meant to the younger cousin. That she would defy convention and tradition, defy her father if she had to. That she would never beg him to keep his information to himself but she would consider it a mark of respect from a lesser scion to the heir of the family that he chose very carefully his next move. She'd probably ask the older cousin to remember that she is a woman grown now, no longer a child."

He nodded as though that had been the reply he'd expected and not for the first time Marceline wondered if perhaps Severus possessed some hidden depths.

"The older cousin would probably think long and hard before he intervened. Perhaps a man like him knew a woman not unlike her a lifetime ago, perhaps the younger cousin knows less of his heart than she imagines. And perhaps the older cousin could understand her sentiment, even if he could not condone it because of what her beau had lately become. Excuse me, kinswoman. I fear this conversation is past its best."

And he pushed off into the crowd with a quiet sigh. Marceline stared after him, confused. Had Severus just given her his word in a roundabout way to keep their secret? Why? But she didn't have long to ponder it, a moment later Bonnie was back by her side and the tiger headed man was bowing to her and moving away to claim a new dance partner.

"What did he say while you danced?" Marcy asked, curious about who he might be.

"I... don't remember. Is that normal?" Bonnie replied, confused. Before Marceline could answer that no it wasn't normal and _fuck that was fucking Marshall he shouldn't be here_ , the Ibex headed man was back at her elbow, tugging on her sleeve to get her attention.

"Daughter. Now, while everyone is busy with the dance."


	9. Chapter 9

**The intrigue grows as Meán Fómhair continues, are we all still enjoying the story? Of course, I wouldn't be me if I didn't have big plans for this chapter. And a couple of twists left deliberately unresolved at the end of course. There aren't a lot of notes to go with this chapter except to say that the way the evening ends for the adult ball guests shouldn't really surprise anyone who's aware of the druidic and later Bacchic traditions of pre-Christian festival days. And if you don't know what that means then surprise, you're about to finish the chapter thinking 'wait who did she- they did WHAT?!'. This was fun to write and not just because I'm a history nerd. Sometimes I have to find a name for Marceline's mum since there isn't one established in canon, so I chose to name her Tara. It's onlt a passing reference anyway but I thought it might be important to avoid confusion.**

 **So guys I have a secret project in the works. What's it about? I can't tell you that yet. But I can say that I'm certain you'll like it. Also unrelated but in personal news I'm cutting all my hair off. I want to say it's because of gay stylistic reasons? But I just want something less annoying to take care of, it's at the point of long where my fiancee is sick of accidentally lying on it in bed. Off it must go. So it looks like I'll be back to a Soft Butch** **™ aesthetic in time for Pride and to do my (P)atreon video. Jah, I'm going to try to make some money from my writing for once ^^ Good lead in, right?**

 **Content warning: blood, rune cutting, reveals, feels, kinda weird sex.**

* * *

It was the work of a second to slide unobtrusively into a dimly lit corner and Disillusion herself. Bonnie shivered as the magic flowed from her head all the way down to her feet, turning her from just another solid body in the crowded room to a transparent wraith. She followed Marceline and Hunson out of the dining hall and into the corridors of Moor House on feet that she'd charmed to almost complete silence before the party had begun. The charm did nothing to cover the frenzied thumping of her heart though; perhaps nobody except for another werewolf could have heard it but to her own sensitive ears it was like she had a marching drum sounding a frantic thrash behind her ribs. Her senses were in overdrive. The wind whispered beyond the long sash windows and set her teeth on edge, the hall was only sparsely lit with antique oil lamps that threw dancing shadows across the walls as they walked and sent phantom enemies skittering along the edges of her vision. Every last hair on Bonnie's skin was standing on end and her fingers were flexing and curling into claws without her conscious control. The wolf was in the back of her mind muttering to her too and for once they were in total agreement.

 _Mistake. Danger. Master is in danger. Protect!_

 _I'll rip the throat out of anyone who tries to hurt her,_ Bonnie thought savagely. She felt the wolf snarl in fierce agreement in the back of her thoughts as they approached the front door and slipped noiselessly out into the night. At least she felt a little less claustrophobic in the open air, but the tension of the night and the side effects of her experimental werewolf calming potion were combining to made the redhead feel exposed, jumpy, a little unhinged.

Despite the moon being only half full it caused a frisson of excitement and fresh fear to surge through Bonnie's chest when she stepped out beneath its light. The wolf howled in her head and paced ever more frustrated mental circles. More than anything it wanted to run free, hunt and kill the delicious humans that were all around. Bonnie knew that even Marceline wasn't safe from her at the height of her monthly madness. The wolf would devour the flesh of any human it could when the grip of the moonlight's power took hold; afterwards it would be destroyed by what it had done but during those two nights of bloodlust not even their mate and master would be safe. As she followed through the derelict garden Bonnie wondered distantly why she was so preoccupied with the wolf when they were about to take part in a sacred pureblood ritual but she supposed her terrified mind was concentrating on something she could easily dissect to keep from panicking about what was about to happen. It was a thin veneer of control but it was keeping her more or less calm as she crept through the damp foliage of the moorland towards the twisting limbs of dark trees ahead. Hunson and Marceline strode boldly but despite knowing she was all but invisible in the darkness with her Disillusionment charm Bonnie inched along after them with her shoulders hunched and eyes darting around. Nobody had followed though, the three of them reached the knot of trees alone.

The air of the sacred grove hummed with tangible wild magic. It was as deep and absolute as the ancient enchantments that shrouded Hogwarts but somehow more unique, the pure power of the Abadeer bloodline distilled and refined through centuries of blood sacrifice. They were the direct descendants of the druid masters who'd kept faith with the landscape since before the invaders from Rome had imposed their rule and established order and logic, in a time before history when the land was free and the magic flowed on the breeze for any with the faith and knowledge to reach out to it. As well as almost literally consuming the books about the Old Way she'd recently borrowed Bonnie had spent a lot of spare time at school in the library simply out of academic curiosity and she'd half expected to be able to feel the magic in the way described by the old tomes, as a semi-sentient being both familiar and unknowable that was only tangible to those possessed of a rare sensitivity to the wild power. The air tingled and with a thrill of excitement Bonnie realised she had begun to feel the first stirrings of the wild magic as it flowed around her. She could sense it without seeing or hearing it, like a static atmosphere in the air that caused the power in herself to stir up in excitement and race beneath her skin like it would burst out from her finger tips into golden sparks at any second. The wild magic was deep and rich, it was like standing inside an electrical storm. And it was stronger the further through the trees she walked. At the edge of the stone circle she stopped and hung back for fear of Hunson noticing her. But she could see in between the stones, they were no taller than she was and the huge twisted trunk of ancient oak she stood next to shadowed her from any watching eyes. Still Bonnie knew that the wild magic could sense her, it was rippling around her curiously almost like it was assessing her worthiness to be there. A moment later Hunson had cut a rune into the palm of his hand with the stone knife he carried and offered the sacrifice of his blood to the stones of the circle. They glowed and the atmosphere grew even heavier as the trees sighed in a language Bonnie didn't recognise yet nevertheless found she knew.

 _Thig a-steach don chearcall, fuil mo fhuil. Enter the circle, blood of my blood._

Next second Hunson had disappeared from sight, Ibex head and all, and Marceline lifted a polished stone knife of her own. By the uncertain light of the half moon filtering through the dying foliage it was hard to see the blade but Bonnie was certain it was viciously sharp. She cringed and looked away as the sound of tearing skin met her sensitive ears followed by the sharp tang of fresh blood on the night air.

 _Master!_ the wolf whimpered, horrified. _No! Hurt, bleeding! Protect the master!_

 _She's ok, it's just a little cut. It's for the magic._ Bonnie thought back wearily. Even knowing logically that Marceline wasn't hurt didn't ease the pressure in her chest though. It was instinct, whether human or werewolf didn't matter, some ancient part of her psyche that couldn't be reasoned with wanted to follow Marcy into the stone circle and make sure she was ok, protect her from whatever she was doing within. Before she'd even realised she'd moved Bonnie took a step forward and then another. Her hand was reaching for the stone knife abandoned on the ground when a voice behind her made her whirl around with a sudden surge of adrenaline.

"And here I was thinking I was the only one who had a vested interest in what happens here tonight. Very clever, kinswoman. I suppose you're their guard?"

The man wearing all black who'd asked her to dance that night was standing right behind her but when Bonnie squinted through the darkness his face no longer wore the enchanted mask of the tiger. He looked so like his sister, Bonnie thought distantly behind her numb horror. But crueller, Marceline had never worn that sneer of anticipation like she was already wondering how best to make her victims scream. And he was holding a wand. No, he wasn't permitted to carry a wand, Marcy had told her so. He raised it nevertheless and pointed it at her. The wolf surged forward with a snarl of protective fury before Bonnie had even thought about moving.

 _"Avada keda-"_

She barrelled into him with surprising force before the final syllable was out of his mouth. Green light flickered and died at the wand's tip as they hit the ground together.

...

Inside the circle was the most peaceful place Marceline had ever been. It was calm, otherworldly. She felt more isolated from the worries of the world beyond the stones than ever in her life and the feeling was intoxicating and blissful. This, finally, was the magic of her blood right without the taint of her disowned brother or the lingering melancholy of the space in Moor House where her mother should have been. Inside the circle the rules were different than they had been at the ball and at Hunson's signal she took off her wolf mask and shook her hair free. The magic all around them immediately began to play with it as it had earlier that day, rippling it through the air and twisting a small braid down the length of one side. Hunson's eyes were soft and warm as he regarded his daughter.

"She recognises you." he murmured reverently. Marceline would have asked what he was talking about but he'd already sunk into a kneel in the centre of the circle and more blood than ever was spilling from the jagged rune slashed across his palm. It was an old symbol, hundreds of years more ancient than the Norse runes she'd studied at school. This was a purely magical language without a name, the physical manifestation of the druids' power and even if she hadn't already known what it meant something in the back of her mind could have recognised its meaning anyway. Had the rune granted power to the first ancient Abadeers or had they shaped it with inherent magic to fit their purpose? The two were now so closely intertwined that nobody could ever know what had come first, it was a sign used exclusively by their bloodline and nobody else. The lines of the rune were simple, straight, cutting at diamond angles across each other, but they spoke to the very centre of who she was and whispered a single word directly to her soul. _Faith_. Faith in the magic, faith in the blood, faith in the Old Way. Her own hand was bleeding too and as Marcy looked down to it the magic of the circle healed the cuts with what felt very much like a soft kiss. The wind sighed between the standing stones and words made themselves known in her brain almost without having to travel from her ears.

 _"We do not ask for your blood, daughter. Ease your mind and rest here a while, you are most welcome."_

It felt like coming home in a way that walking through the front door of Moor House never did. If that was how it felt simply to enter to sacred grove as the named heir on a festival day then Marceline could understand her father's story about Jurian Ignatius Abadeer with much greater clarity. This was who she was, below any of the other aspects of herself, this wild and ancient magic bound to her bloodline was the bedrock of her whole identity. It was like finally being aware of a piece of music that had been playing in the background for her entire life and only now was she actively listening to the melody. Hunson was sitting now, chanting with his palm held above the earth so the blood could splash down and soak the ground. Despite the intoxication of being so close to the wild magic Marceline managed to focus on his words.

"I call on the four winds and the four corners of the earth as witness to my intent. I call on the living and the dead, the thin places between their worlds and the spirits who walk between as witness to my intent. I call on the wild magic of the earth and the air as witness to my intent. I call on my only daughter, blood of my blood, heir of my body, as witness to my intent. If my heart lies may I be struck dead by the magic and my soul forever banished from this circle. So I speak, so I intend, so let it be."

"Blood of my blood, I shall witness your intent." Marceline replied softly. She took a seat on the soft earth across from her father and listened carefully to his words. They were still half bound by ritual, he needed to be cautious about what he revealed until they were outside of the circle.

"I have maintained the binding for ten years, through ten full cycles of the seasons as my blood has waxed and waned. Now hear my confession and if my heart lies may I be struck dead by the magic and my soul forever banished from this circle. When I first bound him ten years ago that young man who had been my son had angered and grieved me beyond what I thought I could bear. I was ashamed of his choices and actions, infuriated by what he had cost me and driven me to do. I bound him with anger, not reason, and instead of thinking through my actions I reacted thoughtlessly. It was vengeance that motivated me to bind him, not justice. I call now for the magic to recognise the remorse in my heart and allow him to be unbound, so that justice may take its rightful course and the souls of all he has wronged be allowed to rest peacefully."

Marceline felt her heartbeat pick up in anticipation. This was new information, she was so close to knowing fully what had happened to cause her former brother's disowning. She wondered over her father's choice of words, _the souls of all he has wronged._ Did that mean Marshall had killed someone after all? But murder carried a life sentence in Azkaban, she'd double checked and the only way he'd have been allowed out if he was found guilty of murder would be with a pardon from the Minister for Magic themselves, or if his conviction was somehow overturned. But surely her father would have told her if that had been the case? She had no more time to wonder about it though because that same not-voice that had told her to rest at the beginning of the ritual answered. Marceline felt her eyes grow wide as the magic took not only a voice but the outline of a woman; silver and shining, made from light and pure energy but achingly familiar. The woman was tall, willowy, she wore her thick hair unbound and it flowed to her shoulders in a smooth sweep. Her face was soft and feminine, a more oval and gentle version of the same face that stared back from Marceline every morning when she looked in the mirror.

"Mum?" she croaked around the abrupt lump in her throat. The shining woman turned and regarded her with a warm smile before her expression shifted to sorrow.

 _"There is so much you need to know and so little time when the ritual will let our worlds close enough to explain. Poor Marshall. He was such a solitary child, all we wished for was a companion for him. Months passed and then years and still the magic did not bless us with another child. We were resigned to our fate, and did we truly have cause to grieve? We had a strong and healthy son, an heir to carry on the blood and name. And then two things happened at the same time. Your brother left for school, and I fell unexpectedly pregnant with you. A second perfect child, a daughter so beautiful that her first cry stole my heart away. But as my heart was stolen so was your brother's, by jealousy. And there was a man who exploited that jealousy and insecurity, a man so twisted that we do not dare speak his name. Your brother's crimes were many but the worst he did was unintentional. Do not judge him too harshly on Midwinter's night when you next step inside the circle. He was manipulated, scared. He did not intend for things to end as they did. I love you both, so much. He is so close to being unbound. Remember when you discover his crimes, justice rests most soundly in the arms of mercy."_

"I love you, Tara." Hunson told the spirit simply. He raised his head to her and she reached out as though she would caress his cheek but before her fingers could connect the light dissipated and the two of them were alone again within the circle.

"Where did she go?" Marcy managed to ask around the hard sob that was stuck in the back of her throat. He eyes were bright with unshed tears and her father couldn't meet her gaze for fear of giving away his own grief.

"Even the Old Way can't bring back the dead. A shadow of her magic was able to cross into the circle, briefly, because I summoned the power for the unbinding ritual. Come, we must finish." he replied eventually. Marceline pretended not to notice the hand her father briefly swept across his eyes before he continued the ritual words. "As the season turns and the dark of the year approaches let the light of the sun be replaced by the illumination of truth. Let justice reign where vengeance was once reaped. Let mercy be offered and in time perhaps forgiveness earned. So I speak, so I intend, so let it be."

"So let it be." Marceline echoed. Hunson's blood stopped flowing from his hand and the cuts across his palm healed to nothingness just like Marcy's had done. He stood as the hum of magic in the air began to quieten and Marceline went to follow, still reeling from seeing the shade of her long dead mother. It took her a split second longer than it should have for her to notice the way her father was breathing like he'd been running and the weary stumble in his stride.

"Daddy! You're sick, oh Simon told me this might happen. You can't strain yourself, you have to rest. Come on, I'll take you home. I'll get rid of the guests and-"

"No." Hunson cut her off firmly despite his trembling limbs. "The Meán Fómhair ball must continue, we can't break from tradition. Where is your mask? Put it back on, we must observe the laws of the night no matter what else has happened. Once we step outside the circle again this never happened. We never left the house, do you understand me? Come, there are still hours until daybreak. Help me walk."

Reluctantly Marceline pulled her mask back on then took her father's arm and helped him stagger forward out of the stone circle. The second her foot stepped past the stones though she had a whole world of new things to worry about. The sounds of a fight hit her ears; she'd completely forgotten that Bonnie was waiting outside of the circle for her.

...

"Who are you? What hold do you have over my sister?" the man snarled as they grappled on the ground. Bonnie's tackle had knocked his wand from his hand before he could finish casting the killing curse on her but she knew her life was still in danger. If he got even the smallest advantage over her he'd kill her, that much was obvious. He managed to scrabble the stone knife into his hands and lunge forward to scrape in shallowly into Bonnie's sleeve. That was the moment the wolf seized control and she was all instinct and fury. Rage filled her limbs with the unnatural strength of the transformed werewolf. With a roar she overpowered her attacker and pinned him to the ground by his throat while the wolf in her head howled and demanded blood.

"She's not your sister!" Bonnie found herself snarling. "You have no family and no claim to her! You're nothing to her, you hear me?"

"You- what are you?" he choked around the iron fist that held his throat.

But before she could answer Bonnie was knocked back by a powerful blast of magic. Hunson and Marceline had emerged from the stone circle and the old man was pointing his wand at her even as he leaned on his daughter for support. Even with his Ibex mask back in place it was plain to see that the ritual had drained his energy.

"An intruder." she heard him growl. "No true kinsman, somehow you fooled the wards. Reveal yourself!"

There was a split second where she leapt away with inhuman strength and speed as the next blast of light from Hunson's wand lit the night and then Bonnie was away between the trees, running for her life with the sounds of pursuit behind her. Even as she fled her brain was whirling; Hunson looked exhausted, the disowned man was half choked from her grip around his throat. There was a very good chance that the person she could hear crashing through the trees and wet ferns behind her was Marceline. Bonnie skidded to a halt at the edge of the small patch of woodland just past the ward boundary and sure enough a second later her girlfriend went hurtling past her. Relief and a kind of reckless energy thrust her forward and she tackled the taller girl, bringing them both crashing down into the wet foliage.

"What the hell happened?" Marcy gasped when she realised who was sprawling on top of her.

"He must have followed me, attacked me. Demanded to know who I am and why I'm close to you. I think I hurt him, sorry. And oh hell, this is a bad time for part of my brain to be thinking about how hot it would be to get you moaning right here on the ground, right?"

It was an after-effect of the adrenaline rush mixing with the intoxicating magic of Meán Fómhair. Marceline didn't know it but there was another part to the ancient tradition of The Witches' Thanksgiving, another reason for the masks and even for the sacred groves of ancient families to allow blood adoption. As she gave in to the sudden and intense temptation to let her girlfriend make her moan she was unaware that in guest chambers all over Moor House the scions of the most ancient families in Britain were overcome by the same reckless desires. Meán Fómhair was the night when forbidden passions could be safely vented. Once the children had been sent to their beds under the watchful eyes of the house elves the alcohol began to flow and the guests slipped away to discreet bedrooms in two's and the occasional three. And if Hunson wondered where his daughter was and what had happened to her then the magic of the night would swiftly direct his thoughts elsewhere. The ancient, wild magic demanded the creation of a new generation of the faithful, as exhausted as the ritual had left him he would not be excused from the expectation to take someone to his bed. So he had no space in his mind to worry about anything except the deliciously curvy young thing that accompanied him to his chamber, his daughter was caught in the grip of the magic too and all she was thinking about was the rhythmic thrust of her lover's fingers as they writhed together in the undergrowth. But even the wild magic couldn't hold them in its power once the act was complete.

Marcy slumped back down boneless and exhausted, letting her fingertips trace along her lover's chest in languid swirls. Maybe they'd never move again, she thought. The moment was too perfect to end, they could petrify naked together under the dark sky, they'd both just lay there until the tree roots covered them. The ground would be their pillow and the clouds could make a blanket and they'd just stay together like that, sky clad and unashamed.

With one long, lingering kiss she curled up on Bonnie's still-bare chest and heaved a contented sigh.

"You ok there, love?"

"Yeah. You're an excellent pillow."

"I thought you had to get back to the house?"

"I do. I just don't wanna."

But eventually Bonnie sighed and sat up regretfully, ignoring her girlfriend's weak protests at the movement.

"Look, the sky is starting to lighten in the east. I need to go." she murmured. "I don't want to, I want to lie here with your arms under my shoulders and let the clouds watch us together."

"You'll burn to death when the sun comes up and the binding ritual comes to an end." Marcy sighed. But when she turned to look at her lover it was to find that the redhead was staring at her in horror.

"Oh God, the binding ritual! I forgot, _fuck_ , we weren't supposed to touch each other when we were bound! Oh my God you can never tell anyone about this ever, ok? Promise me!"

"We're not really related, it's just something to trick the wards. And it'll be finished soon anyway, yeah? Don't freak out, babe." Marcy soothed. But Bonnie was struggling back into her clothes and pulled away from her girlfriend's touch when Marcy reached for her.

"I have to go. This was... weird. I didn't hear anything when you were in the circle anyway, and then your brother turned up and attacked me. Look, this was wrong, ok? I dunno what I was thinking but I need to go and figure some stuff out. I'll owl you."

And she disappeared with a quiet pop while Marceline was still shrugging her own robes back over her shoulders. She trudged back to the edge of the wards lost in thought, struggling to make sense of everything that had happened. It sounded like her brother might have been a Death Eater, and now Bonnie was freaking out because they'd had sex while the blood binding was still in place, it wasn't the introduction to pureblood culture she'd wanted for her girlfriend. What had even happened? It made no sense, one second they'd been running across the moorland because she was expected to chase down the 'intruder', next second Bonnie had tackled her and they'd been desperately tearing each other's clothes off. Even for their usual intense love making it had been powerful and intoxicating, almost like the sudden burning desire for each other had been infused with the wild magic. The first rays of the rising sun found Marcy removing her mask and trudging back to the house deep in thought. She was so caught up in her own head that she missed the familiar purple cloak still hanging in the entrance hall, the same one that had hung from Lydia Sable-Pendragon's bed in the Slytherin dorms since the end of sixth year. If she'd taken a moment to wonder about it Marceline would have realised it meant her best friend had been at the ball and had stayed overnight at Moor House and what that must mean but she was too exhausted and preoccupied. Marceline took herself to bed without ever wondering if her father or brother were sleeping alone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Uaaaa it's been too long! I'm so sorry. I'd like to blame my meds, they make me cloudy headed and drowsy, also I got Elder Scrolls Online and it's my new obsession. So if anyone else is playing and wants to hang with my cute lil Khajit hit me up and we'll arrange something^^**

 **Remember how I said I was cutting my hair? Well, I've done it. Shaved sides and three inches of androgynous fluff on top. I even kept my past-the-middle-of-my-back ponytail to donate to a cancer wig making charity. Aaaaand I dyed what was left pastel pink! Because there is just a very small chance that when I go to surgery I might die, family history of heart stopping under anaesthetics and all. So I have to make sure I have awesome hair for the funeral, right? Don't worry, if I kick it my lovely fiancee Fox knows how all the stories end, they'll write you up a quick explanation. I'm not going to die in surgery anyway, nothing that exciting every happens to me. Anyway I'll be in the hospital for a few days from the 19th of this month so feel free to send me random messages or whatever, keep me entertained.**

 **Content warning: Lupins! Lupins everywhere! Revelations, accusations, implied old-man fornications. Head wolves are dumb, fate is either kind or cruel depending on your point of view.**

* * *

"Remus? There's a girl here to see you. A very pretty girl, ginger hair, young?"

For one sleep-muddled second his first thought was that Lily must have dropped by unexpectedly before bleak reality crashed back into place and he remembered that there was a different brilliant, red haired muggleborn girl he knew these days. One who was still alive, one he hadn't managed to let down yet. They didn't even look particularly alike, he was grateful for it because otherwise he'd have ended up projecting his dead friend onto her and that wasn't fair on either of them. Remus sighed and opened his eyes blearily before rolling from the bed and grabbing a shirt. His father, Lyall Lupin, hovered in the doorway looking equal parts amused and confused.

"At this time of the morning?" Remus grumbled to cover his disorientation.

"She seems very upset. Is she... Do you want to tell me something?" Lyall prodded with a knowing smile.

"Dad, no. She's just a friend." he replied uncomfortably. "And something must be up for her to come track me down like this. I better see what's going on."

He followed his father down the narrow staircase into the cottage's kitchen and his heart fell when he saw the girl sitting at the kitchen table. She looked exhausted and very upset, he could smell traces of panic and deep magic on her from across the room. The moment he slid down into the chair next to her she rested her head on his arm and visibly relaxed.

"Bonnibel? What's wrong?" Remus asked her gently when she failed to explain or even move from where she was slumped against him. Lyall shot his son another _look_ then busied himself making a huge pot of tea and setting some crumpets to toast on the old fashioned coal range that took up almost the whole end of the small room.

"I did something stupid and I feel weird and... I didn't know you still lived with your father, I'm sorry."

"I'm only staying here until I find a place, this isn't permanent. What's wrong, what happened?"

"I should have sent an owl but I didn't want to go home, she'll look there first. And she knows where my mother lives and I haven't seen my father since I was six, I can't just turn up on his doorstep without an explanation. I hate that I have to just barge in here like this but I didn't know where else to go." she stammered, not quite crying but with a definite wobble in her voice.

"Who's looking for you?" Remus asked softly. Bonnie sucked in a shaky breath before she answered but he'd already figured it out.

"Marceline. We had a fight. I mean, we... it wasn't so much a fight as... I asked her not to do something, not to cross a boundary, and she did it anyway. You were right, old purebloods aren't like the rest of us."

"Wait, it was the equinox last night, wasn't it? Does this have something to do with the Witches' Thanksgiving?"

Lyall turned to stare at them both, wand raised and the three tea cups he'd been levitating out of the cupboard floating forgotten behind him.

"You mean the feast of Meán Fómhair? That's just a myth." he told his son, frowning. "Nobody still does that anymore, not even the oldest purebloods. Do they?"

"I was at the feast at Moor House last night, I saw them myself." Bonnie admitted quietly. "It wasn't like anything I've ever experienced before. And then at the end of the night..."

She trailed off, shaking her head and looking more distressed than ever. Lyall Lupin hadn't ever been good at dealing with women's emotions and it looked like his son had everything under control anyway. So he took his own stack of toasted crumpets and cup of tea off to the lounge instead and left them to it, although he had every intention of asking Remus the details of the conversation afterwards. They had no secrets and it sounded like his son's pretty young friend was in over her head. Meán Fómhair, well he'd heard of it plenty of times but nobody he'd known had ever actually been to one of the feasts. Lyall finished his breakfast thoughtfully before standing and crossing the room to his over-burdened bookcase, looking for the oldest and most tattered volume he owned.

Over the tea and breakfast Bonnie haltingly recounted as much of the night as she could remember. But when she got to the part about Marshall at the sacred grove a stabbing pain through her head stopped her with a cry.

"I guess it's still a secret. But I'm not passing out when I talk about it so I suppose he's more unbound than before. There was an older child that her father disowned because he did something illegal, we still don't know what. And that was why I was there, I was supposed to be listening and writing it down in case Marcy forgot after the ritual. I can't say more than that, I can't even tell you his name without it feeling like I'm being stabbed." she added in frustration. "And then he attacked me just as Marcy was coming back out of the grove. He was going to kill me, he tried to cast the killing curse. I ran, she chased me, we ended up sprawled in the undergrowth together and- I don't know what came over me. Adrenaline, maybe? The wolf? I don't know. I couldn't keep my hands off her. But we were still in the blood binding, it wasn't right. Technically we were still twinned. I can't face her after that."

Remus nodded, staring into the middle distance and thinking hard.

"You said the Witches' Thanksgiving was pretty much exactly how the stories about it are?" he asked after a heavy pause.

"Yeah, I guess. Enchanted animal masks, crazy dancing, nobody was allowed to reveal who they were, different coloured robes to work out how closely related each person was." Bonnie nodded glumly.

"And you'd never heard of the equinox ball before? I wonder why it was so important to know how closely related an anonymous stranger was?"

"I... don't know. I guess so that people know who their spouse is? But they'd arrive together so they should know anyway. Unless- Remus, is part of the ritual of the night, uh, carnal in nature?"

"Huh. So I've heard. I used to know a few old purebloods although they never went to the Witches' Thanksgiving balls when we were at school. Too young, or too disowned when they were old enough. Or their family was too light and abandoned the Old Way in favour of more standard magic. Or, they ended up too dead by the end of the war. But my one friend... he always wondered if he wasn't really his father's son, if he was conceived at the ball. He talked about it sometimes, said his mother might have used a stasis charm to delay his growth in the womb so that he was born months later and nobody would suspect he was a magical bastard."

"Wait, Marcy said that they had a whole ancient blood ritual for the permanent adoption of bastards. It must be more common than we realised if it's not just something her family do."

"Yeah, I guess so. They don't talk about it but everyone knows sex is a required part of the night. At least, everyone from those kinds of families. And I suppose children are created as part of the ritual every now and again. There must be some kind of magical compulsion to performing the act with the closest available partner, that does sound like something the wild magic would do. It would explain why the colours of the robes tell you who's too closely related. I'll need to research to confirm it of course but I suspect you can forgive yourself, Bonnibel. If the wild magic knew you weren't really blood relatives then I guess you don't need to worry about accidental incest. It's not like you could have impregnated her anyway."

Bonnie flushed a deep red and looked down into her empty teacup instead. It was hard enough to even think about what she'd done, much less to admit to Remus that she was upset because some ancient druid ritual had made them fuck like wild animals on the moorside. Worst of all, it had been the best lay of her life so far and that just made her feel all the more conflicted about it. Logically what Remus was saying made sense; if the Old Way required sex as part of the ritual then the ancient pureblood families would comply. They might pretend to be too refined, too moral for that sort of nonsense the rest of the year but she'd seen them dancing with her own eyes. It was the wild, irreverent dance of the intoxicated revelling in the magic all around them, there was nothing proper or noble about it. They might dress like Victorians and pretend to be above such foolishness but Bonnie knew better, she knew she'd seen their dirty secret the night before. Old purebloods were just blood sacrificing, wife-swapping, nature worshipping druids pretending to pass for normal witches and wizards. A culture within a culture within a culture. It must be exhausting, she thought.

The sun was well risen and she hadn't slept all night, Bonnie found herself yawning into her hand despite her lingering distress. She thanked Remus for the food and tea then excused herself, heading towards the front door of the cottage as he waved her goodbye and trudged back up the stairs for a couple more hours of sleep. Bonnie was exhausted and her head was still spinning with hundreds of thoughts and questions. It took her a moment to register that Lyall Lupin was waiting for her at the door with a book in his hands.

"Here, Miss. This belonged to my great grandfather, Owain Prewitt. His family weren't the type to have their own manor house and sacred grove but he knew plenty who did, and I suppose you might be able to make more sense of this than I can. Keep it, it sounds like you'll need all the help you can get if you're tangled up with an old pureblood. If my memory serves, the Abadeers had a daughter about your age named Marceline, yes? If you've gotten yourself involved with all their ancient druidic nonsense then you'll need this book more than I ever will." Lyall told her with a kind smile.

"Thank you, Mr Lupin." Bonnie replied softly. She was a little shy at her friend's father knowing the gory details of what had happened that morning but it seemed Lyall was where Remus had inherited his patience and compassion from, she didn't sense even the smallest amount of judgement or disapproval in his gaze.

"Listen, Miss Sugar. I'm just glad my Remus has a friend again, he's been so solitary after everything that happened in the war. I've spent the best part of his life observing how the curse of the werewolf slowly tries to destroy its victims. You need to support each other as much as possible, I'm glad you feel able to come to him for help whenever you need it. But my son isn't perfect, he has his own prejudices about old purebloods and after everything that happened I can't really blame him. Just remember that you are not him, the girl you're stepping out with isn't that Black boy all over again. History doesn't need to repeat itself, things are different now. Don't let him talk you into ending something that makes you happy just because he got hurt."

"I won't, thank you." Bonnie reassured him, nodding but confused and with very little space left in her thoughts to add the mystery of why Remus would have a prejudice against that particular type of old pureblood. By the time she'd gathered her strength to apparate back to the cabin and collapsed exhausted into her bed Bonnie had forgotten about it.

...

She woke a few hours later to insistent hooting in her ear and for half a second she was certain Marceline had written her-

No, it was just her monthly potions supply delivery from DB's associate. She knuckled her eyes tiredly, still exhausted from being up all night, and took the box from the indignant bird before a tap of her wand expanded it back to its full size. That's when she saw the note pinned to the top and forgot to worry about being tired.

 _There will be a shipment of powdered moon gentian for auction in four nights time at the northern underground black market. Your paramour will know the way. If you intend to use the dosage of dried runespoor scales indicated in your most recent research notes for more than a single moon cycle the damage to your digestive system will be irreversible. The addition of powdered moon gentian in a 3:1 ratio at the same stage of brewing as the runespoor scales should prevent these more problematic side effects. I am unable to attend the auction due to prior commitments and I do not make a habit of cleaning up after clumsy schoolgirl errors in experimental potioneering so do not expect that this will be a regular communication. You will need a disguise, do not allow your incompetence to force me to use the last of my shredded boomslang skin again._

 _Yours,  
_ _HBP_

Bonnie stared down at the curt note and swallowed against the cold feeling creeping up from her stomach. She'd received her regular delivery of potions ingredients from Damocles' mysterious associate every month and it had never been anything more than an expertly shrunk package tied to the leg of a magnificent screech owl. Never once had a note been attached. And he'd made no attempt to hide his sharp, distinctive handwriting; he must have known she'd immediately recognise it, surely? Damocles' supplier of hard to get ingredients was none other than Severus Snape, she was certain of it. And he'd referred to her 'schoolgirl error', clearly he knew who she was too. Bonnie took a moment to curse her stupidity, _of course_ the potioneering circles in Britain were small and everyone knew everyone. She couldn't work out why the taciturn Potions Master was helping Damocles at all but she supposed he must have his reasons. And then another part of the note made its way to the forefront of her mind and Bonnie paled in fresh horror. Snape had said her paramour would know the way to the underground black market of potions ingredients. That meant he knew about her and Marceline's relationship. And what did he mean about using the last of his shredded boomslang skin?

Bonnie opened the box containing the usual monthly ingredients and noticed that along with the vials and powders that she'd expected there were two slim stoppered bottles carefully wrapped in cotton and cushioning charms to protect them. They contained a thick, mud-like substance and when she opened one and took a careful sniff the telltale musty damp-earth smell of fluxweed was all the confirmation she needed. Snape had sent them two doses of Polyjuice potion to act as disguises during the auction. Bonnie took a moment to wonder why he was so invested in her research but filed it away for further examination later, there was a much more pressing concern taking up most of her mental space. She needed to swallow her pride and contact Marceline.

 _Master!_ the wolf whimpered longingly in her thoughts.

 _The master fucked up, that's why we've been avoiding her,_ Bonnie replied wearily. Was it just her bad luck or were all mental wolves dumbasses? Not only was she stuck being a horrifying nightmare beast with a debilitating condition and no prospects for the rest of her life but worse, she was forced to explain everything to the furry moron living in her head now because the wolf was too stupid to understand a lot of human nuance. Maybe Remus could help, Bonnie thought. Maybe he'd help her contact some of the other werewolves in the study, they could form a support group.

 _Pack_? the wolf asked with a hopeful prick of mental ears.

 _Support group,_ Bonnie replied firmly. _For other werewolves who're sick of having to explain everything to their dumb head wolves._

 _You're dumb_ , the wolf sulked. _You want the master, won't go to her. Not fair. Howl for the master!_

 _Human's don't howl to get each other's attention, idiot. I'll have to write her a letter._

The head wolf didn't bother to reply, too hurt at being repeatedly called stupid. It crawled further away into her thoughts and turned its back to her; Bonnie felt an unexpected twist of guilt in her guts. If it hadn't been for the full moon and the agonising transformations, the thirst for human flesh and irresistible bloodlust, she might even have been fond of the wolf in her head. It was funny and at least when Marceline was around quite sweet and affectionate. She supposed it suffered from its host's humanity for the rest of the month the way she became filled with the lupine rage every full moon. Being filtered through a human mind tamed the wolf some, especially during the dark of the moon. When it wasn't whispering about cracking bones between its jaws and sucking down the marrow of screaming prey it was almost like having a weird mental pet.

Bonnie sighed and swung herself out of bed. The full moon was still two weeks away, she had no excuse for being so lazy except that she'd been up until dawn that morning. Even still, sleeping for the whole afternoon felt wrong to her and she itched to do some real work, salvage at least a little productivity from the day before it was completely wasted. So with one last world weary sigh she crossed to her writing desk, scribbled a quick note and gave it to the barn owl she'd treated herself to as a seventeenth birthday present.

"Take it to Marceline, please. Don't approach until she's alone though, don't give it to her elves or anyone else in the family, ok? Moor House, North Yorkshire. I know it's a long way away but you're crazy fast. You up to it?"

The Morrow hooted and bumped his feathery head against her hand affectionately before gathering himself up from his perch and swooping off through the open window, leaving his mistress with nothing to occupy her thoughts except for brooding on the events of the night before.

...

"You didn't come home until the sun rose."

It wasn't an accusation Marceline had wanted to face, not when she was tired and hurt, certainly not from her father. But Hunson was up and about despite the energy he'd poured into the ritual, she had no excuse to be so exhausted over a little lost sleep. Deep down she knew it was more than that, it was the distance in Bonnie's eyes when she'd left and the chill in her voice when she'd said goodbye. Marceline knew she'd fallen for the redhead and she'd thought she'd understood what being in love was. But she'd only seen one side of it, the dizzying way she felt when they kissed, the way staring into Bonnie's eyes felt like every fairy tale she'd ever heard coming true. Now she'd seen the other side of love, the pain of separation and the mental agony of not knowing if they'd make it through tough times together. It felt a lot like the time she'd fallen from her broom during a fifth year quidditch match and slammed into the ground at speed, only this time the pain was coming from her heart instead of her shattered ribs. And now her father was asking about where she'd been in the small hours and she really _really_ didn't want to relive it.

"I chased the intruder but they got away. I decided to take some time in the woods and clear my head after what I saw in the sacred grove." she lied, looking anywhere but her father's face.

"Marceline. Look at me." Hunson commanded. She reluctantly pulled her gaze to meet his fathomless eyes. "You are lying to me. The ritual of Meán Fómhair does not allow for one to take a leisurely stroll through the woods so late in the night. I know what you did. Tell me, did you couple with the intruder?"

"Daddy, I don't know what you're-"

"You lay with them in the woods, chased them and presumably caught them when the wild magic overcame you both. I'm no fool, I've attended Meán Fómhair since long before you were alive, girl. Was it a man or a woman?"

She swallowed nervously and looked away, unable to meet that accusing gaze head-on anymore. What use in lying about it? He knew, Merlin alone knew how but he _knew._

"Woman." she confirmed quietly.

"Good. Then at least we don't need to worry about you carrying a bastard in consequence." Hunson sighed. "Daughter, I'm asking because I care about you. If I'd realised how late it was I never would have sent you after the intruder. I myself was pulled back to the ball by the same urging of the wild magic, I had no choice. None ever do, and to refuse our obligation is unthinkable. So long as you are safe and the intruder is gone we'll speak no more of it. No lover that you take to your bed on Meán Fómhair can be held against you. Here comes your uncle, we'll talk more later. Simon, old boy! Didn't sleep so well?" Hunson asked in a tone of false camaraderie as the older man took a seat at the dining table.

"I woke up with a terrible pain in the back of my neck, perhaps I pulled a muscle doing something strenuous. Or perhaps it was just how I was laid in the night." Simon replied with a smirk.

Marceline lost her appetite completely and pushed her plate away from herself. It seemed like her father was saying that the wild magic made people get horny at the end of the night, that part of the ball involved jumping into bed with the nearest available partner. Bonnie was right, purebloods were really damn weird. Why hadn't anyone warned her? After all the lectures she'd received about protecting her purity, waiting for her father to arrange a suitable marriage, how she was above such base things as hormone induced urges... And the whole time he'd been shagging anything that moved at some ancient pureblood orgy every autumn? Another horrible thought struck as Simon and Hunson laughed uproariously at some suggestive comment one of them made; had her mother been at those balls? Her grandparents? All those years ago while she'd been innocently enjoying hot cocoa and telling her Hambo bear about all the beautiful gowns at the ball before her bedtime had come and Peppermint took her off to her rooms, had her parents been downstairs _doing it_? With each other? Or other people? _How many gross old people had been fucking in her house?_

"I, uh, just remembered. I have band practice tonight, I might be home late. Or if we overrun I might just stay out, crash at Keila's place or get a room in town. Y'know, if we go for a drink after. So don't wait up. I should go. I... really want to shower before I leave." Marcy muttered, avoiding both sets of knowing eyes on her burning face. She stood and all but fled from the dining room, not quite quickly enough to avoid hearing the comment Simon made to her father though.

"Ah, she's embarrassed! Poor thing. Young people these days, they think they invented fucking."

Their raucous laughter followed her all the way back to her bedroom. Luckily there was Bonnie's owl waiting for her and in her relief at hearing from her girlfriend Marceline almost managed to forget the horrified disgust of discovering that the old men in her family were openly sexually active and joked with each other about it. The letter contained no apologies or accusations, no mention at all of the night before. In fact it barely contained anything at all.

 _Come see me when you can. I need your help with the experiments._

Bonnie hadn't even signed it, and that was a bad omen if ever she'd seen one. But at least they were talking again. Marceline didn't want to waste any time showering the muggle way, she simply braced herself and muttered a cleaning charm, shivering violently as the icy blast of magic scoured her body. She rummaged in her closet and pulled out some muggle-looking clothes just in case they went someplace, changed as quickly as she could and sprinted from her room all the way down to the front door and out into the grounds. If she'd been just a minute or two later she'd have been grievously delayed in trying to find out what the actual bloody _fuck_ Lydia of all people was doing creeping out of her house in the middle of the afternoon still wearing her purple robes from the party but Marceline was in too much of a rush and she was already crossing the ward boundary as her best friend demurely accepted a kiss on the hand before she departed. Perhaps fate was cruel, or maybe whatever higher power wove her future had decided that Marceline had already suffered enough that day and didn't need the added stress. It might even have made a difference in the long run but that was something to meditate on at length years later, that afternoon as the shadows grew long all Marceline could think about was seeing Bonnie again and begging for her forgiveness.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys, bet you thought I'd forgotten about this story, right? Nah, I'm still working on it! I've just been having a rough time with the motivation and the doing of things recently. But I'm back to work next week, I'm finally walking without my cane again and things seem to be going ok. Except that I'm still not going back to school, I missed the application deadline because I was in the hospital. Yay. So my admittedly mediocre dream of getting qualified to teach high school chemistry is on hold for another year and honestly it's bumming me out. At least when I'm back on night shift I'll be able to write without being distracted by my fiancee, cats or playstation.**

 **It's been really fun to write this story again, I know AT is ending soon so I'm trying to get my shit together and actually finish up the stories I started. I include Laws in that, because eventually I will finish it. I've just had a problem finishing that specific story.**

 **Content Warning: conflict, foreshadowing, mild bodyshock.**

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By the time Marceline arrived at the cabin Bonnie was a nervous wreck. She had the wolf pacing and whining in her thoughts, she was berating herself for being stupid enough to need help from Snape of all people and the absolute last thing she wanted to do was talk to her girlfriend after what had happened the night before. So it would have taken the patience of a saint and a will of iron to keep her tone level and friendly when the door opened. Bonnie had neither.

"You know where the northern black market is?" she snarled, unable to look into those confused hazel-green eyes because if she looked and saw how hurt and lost Marcy was it would undo all of her justified anger and determination.

"Do I- what? Bon, look, can we just talk about last night?"

"Do you know the way or not?"

"Yes, of course I do. But listen, we-"

"Four nights time, Marceline. Be here. Take me there. Do not talk to me about anything else, don't even look directly at me. I can't deal with this, I need to focus on my research."

She spun away and made for the basement door only to find a hand on her arm trying to stop her, a silent plea to fix things. For a moment Bonnie's exhaustion, anger, confusion and heartache all swirled together into a single bubble of pressure inside her chest before it burst outwards and she was wrenching herself away with far more force than she'd intended. Marcy let go with a sharp intake of breath and by the time Bonnie had steadied herself and turned she was backing towards the door with her hand wrapped around the other wrist. Anger was instantly replaced with concern and Bonnie forgot she was mad at her girlfriend, all she could focus on was the wolf shrieking that she'd hurt the master.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you? Let me see, I can help-" she started, contrite and flooded with abrupt shame. But Marceline backed away the moment the redhead came towards her. It wasn't quite fear in her eyes but there was an uneasiness that Bonnie had never seen in her girlfriend's gaze before and it tore at her heart. Marceline being afraid of her was one of her deepest terrors.

"It's just bruised. I should go." Marcy replied hurriedly. She'd backed far enough that her shoulders hit the door frame and she groped behind herself for the handle, never quite turning far enough to let Bonnie out of her direct line of sight. The door creaked open and Marceline ducked backwards out into the rain, leaving Bonnie rooted to the spot while the wolf in her head howled and screamed, tore at her mental landscape and itself, anything to ease the agony of watching the master leave.

If it hadn't been for Peppermint leading her to the sofa and pushing a mug of tea into her hands she might have stayed right there by the door for who knew how much longer, with those ugly words looping over and over in her memory. The warmth of the tea finally broke through her shocked haze and Bonnie realised her hands were a little numb and tingly, her breathing felt heavy and throat tight. It had been a long time since she'd lost control enough to bring on one of her infrequent panic attacks. Even the werewolf bite, realising her life as a normal witch was over before it had begun, those had been awful things to live through but she'd still been almost human then and she'd managed to dig her way through the panic with solid logic. It had taken until her first full moon for it to be obvious how lycanthropy had changed her, made her wilder and more impulsive. Bonnie's emotions were so unstable with the pull of the approaching moon and she was still feeling the sleep debt from the night before. Exhaustion had always brought out the worst in her. During her OWLs she'd been so focused on her overambitious Care of Magical Creatures project, the attempted training of a baby Sphinx she'd named Goliad, that she'd stayed up for three days straight. It was only when Finn and Jake managed to wreck things with their misguided attempted to babysit that she'd allowed herself to feel the lack of sleep, the panic, and escaped to her dorm where she'd proceeded to have a full scale screaming meltdown. The same thing might have happened again if it hadn't been for the sharp eyed old house elf and his quick intervention. With her heart rate dropping and breathing beginning to ease Bonnie murmured her thanks and focused all of her mental power towards calming her wolf and trying to formulate a plan. Her panic receded but it never completely left her mind, always waiting for an idle moment to creep back and corrupt her thoughts. It was going to be a long four days.

...

"So I shouldn't have grabbed her wrist, right? I _know_ , but seriously Lyds, it felt like she was going to tear my arm off when she pulled away!"

"Ooh, hold the front page. Werewolves are strong, who'd have guessed?"

"Thing is I don't think she even realised it herself until then. She looked like she was about to throw up on me. And I just left like a giant asshole. What the fuck is wrong with me?"

Lydia paused from where she'd been absentmindedly examining Marceline's hair with her wand tip and stared incredulously at her friend's reflection in the vanity mirror. When Marceline had turned up on her doorstep in a state yet again her mother had simply sighed and sent the two girls up to Lydia's bedroom to play out whatever drama was happening this week.

"You mean you don't _know_?" she gasped in mock horror. "Marcy, sweetheart, it's because you're an egotistical coward. No offence. You think you're too good to have to fix your own messes so you run away and avoid them until someone else cleans up for you. No, don't interrupt, let me finish. The thing is, you're right. Most of the time. I've known you since you were born and so have most of our year group from school, yeah? So, like, we all know the Abadeers are an ancient family with only one heir young enough to bear children. Even your lesser side branches are dying off. We all know that you're literally swimming in gold and you're pretty damn easy on the eyes to boot. You're the rarest, juiciest strawberry at the very top of the tree-"

"Strawberries grow in bushes." Marceline interrupted. She could overlook the rest of her friend's offensive ramblings because it seemed like Lyds was eventually going to get to the point but inaccurate metaphors ground on her nerves.

"Whatever, you dork. The thing is that you're the most eligible young witch in pureblood society and we all know it. So we all bend over backwards to kiss your ass because we're all hoping we might get to marry you or at least be close enough to benefit from your reflected glory. You know how pleased my parents were when I was sorted into Slytherin? Because I'd get to share a dorm with you and get all kinds of inside info on your family and your father's business plans. You're a big deal and you know it." Lydia finished with a sigh.

"Yeah, rich only child of rich old family who desperately need heirs is surrounded by ass-kissers and fake friends, that's a shocking revelation." Marceline replied with an eye roll. She didn't want to be a member of the Wizengamot, she didn't want to be Minister or even follow in her father's footsteps as a major controller of magical trade in their part of the world. All Marceline wanted was to be left alone with her guitar, maybe record an album, go on tour and play music to entertain people. And chill with Bonnie, of course.

"The point is that you've never had to learn to act like a normal person until now. You're dating a muggleborn. She's not impressed with your name or your blood status or your money, she's actively contemptuous of a lot of your heritage and she didn't grow up knowing how big of a deal you are. You've never spent time around someone who wasn't raised from birth to forgive you pretty much anything. This is difficult for you because you literally don't know how to not be an arrogant douche when you think you're in the right. Imagine how she must be feeling, she's still adjusting to the werewolf thing and now she's got moon-crazies building over the next week and a bit and the horror of discovering she can hurt you without meaning to, all at once. And you ran away like a massive drama queen. _Cincinnulo!"_

Lydia spoke the incantation with a little extra force than usual as she swirled her wand in a tight circular motion, grinning at her handiwork when the spell followed her movements and Marceline's thick, silky hair looped itself up into a huge mane of tight curls.

"I look like a poodle." Marcy frowned, electing to ignore her friend's poor attempt at psychoanalysis. Bonnie was the one being a drama queen and Lydia was definitely less insightful than she thought she was. People didn't kiss Marceline's ass just because she was an Abadeer, did they? It was because she was full of natural charm and she was just genuinely awesome. Right?

"A very fashionable poodle. Gwenog Jones wears her hair in curls now, you know. It was in _Witch Weekly._ " Lydia informed her slyly. Marceline glowered, she made no secret of her dislike for the entire Jones family and especially Gwenog who was a year older than her and already making a name for herself as a professional Quidditch player. They'd never been especially close even for the two years they'd played together on the Slytherin team. The fact that teenage Gwenog Jones had been gorgeous and talented and never once looked at her like she was anything but annoying competition had _nothing to do with it._

"Good for her. Take the curls out, Lyds. I'm not feeling them."

Lydia sighed and muttered the counter charm, she made no effort to hide the disappointment on her face as her friend's hair unfurled back into a straight, hip-length cascade. Marceline was her best friend, they didn't hide things from each other. Of course Lydia knew about Bonnibel's unfortunate lycanthropy and borderline illegal potions research, of course she knew all about Marceline sneaking her girlfriend into the Witches' Thanksgiving ball the night before. And a very big part of her wanted to talk about her own secret too although it was too soon, she knew that. By the time Christmas came she could spill her guts all she wanted but for now it was better not to tempt that fickle bitch Fate. The knowledge that there was still time for her plans to go awry was the only thing holding her back. Nevertheless Lydia bit her tongue and said nothing about it, instead casting around for a different topic.

"But you're taking her to the black market auction still?" she finally prompted.

"I guess. I just need some time to think about this. I know Bonnie wouldn't hurt me. Not deliberately. But I dunno, if it was an accident, if she lost control... Lyds, what would you do?"

"I'd talk to her. And maybe keep a little bit of silver on my person just in case. But the heart wants what the heart wants, you can't stop feeling the way you do just because you realised she's stronger than you. And besides, she has her strengths and you have yours. As much as she could hurt you physically, you could literally murder her and walk away without a backward glance. She's a werewolf, she'll always need you more than you need her. You're the sole heir to one of the largest pureblood fortunes in Europe, you could have your pick of women and you chose her. She'd be a moron to walk away from that just because she didn't like how Meán Fómhair ends. Give her some time to get over herself, stop being lame and let me heal your wrist. You're gonna go back over there on auction night and you're gonna give her space or smooches or whatever it is she needs, you're gonna fix this and get back to being gross and in love."

"You think she'll take me back?"

"I think you're both too fucked up to be with anyone else. Besides, don't werewolves mate for life?"

"I dunno, do they?"

Lydia just shrugged, concentrating on the bruise-healing charm she was applying to her friend's wrist. Maybe they did, she had no idea. But she knew for certain that Abadeers did, whatever direction they happened to be pointing when the wild magic surged through them on the autumn equinox. Lydia had an elaborate game of half truths and subterfuge ahead of her, she was already devoting most of her mental energy to that instead of her friend's plight. It was lucky Marceline was too preoccupied to ask much about how Lydia's ball had been because one of the few rules governing their friendship was that they didn't lie to each other. Not directly. She could omit, she could tell a selective and self-serving truth, but if asked directly what happened Lydia would have to tell and she didn't think Marceline was ready to hear it yet.

...

Four days of waiting. Four days of restless pacing, staring out of the window, resisting the urge to run her fingernails against the skin of her palms over and over until they were sore and red. And four nights of lost sleep, troubled dreams, silent worries that nevertheless echoed loud inside her head as she stared at the ceiling in the dark and counted down the hours until the sun rose again. Bonnie had been right, it had been a long four days.

As much as she wanted those days of purgatory to end it was still agony to watch the clock tick through her final afternoon of solitude and know that at any moment Marceline would arrive. Bonnie had had enough of being alone, being anxious and terrified and filled with self hatred. Her stomach was doing backflips with nerves and the wolf in her head whined incessantly but at least they'd move forward one way or another.

A knock at the door had her jumping in terror. Was that Marcy? Had she missed her arrival? But Marcy never knocked, she just let herself in since she spent every spare minute at the cabin anyway. Or were things so bad between them now that she didn't feel comfortable doing that anymore? Only one way to find out. With a racing heart Bonnie swallowed down her nerves and strode across to the door.

"I take it from the expression of disappointment on your face I'm not who you expected?" Remus asked her with a sad smile when the door opened and his young friend failed to say anything.

"Sorry. I'm waiting for Marcy." Bonnie mumbled. She flushed and looked away in embarrassment before standing aside and motioning him to enter. "We're supposed to be going to some auction thing for more potions ingredients tonight. I'm not sure what time she'll arrive."

"So you two made up then?" Remus enquired. His tone of voice was mild but Bonnie could hear the hint of disapproval under his words, the repressed sigh at her foolishness. "Well, nevertheless I thought you could use some company. My father insisted, actually, I've been sent with a batch of his homemade fudge cake and a stern warning to make sure you're alright and to fix you a sandwich because you look half starved, poor dear."

"You'd think he'd recognise a werewolf metabolism."

"I'm sure he does, he's just glad to find a more willing recipient for his parental fussing. I'm quite resistant to his meddling by now so he's making the most of me having a new friend for him to worry over. I told him you had an elf but he'd already gotten his good fudge knife ready. And I know you'd never say no to candy."

It was good to have a friend she could be honest about her fears with and relax around. Bonnie smiled more that afternoon than she had all week, they shared the cake and a pot of tea while looking through her latest potion notes. Remus vetoed the idea of a werewolf support group though, he shook his head and his smile melted into a grimace when Bonnie suggested it.

"There are laws against the organised gathering of more than three werewolves in any one place for any purpose other than Ministry approved research." he spat, mouth twisting angrily. "Can't have us forming a pack and getting ideas, you see. It also means people in the political elite and your former colleagues are protected from having to interact with us. Have three werewolves who work at the absolute lowest end jobs, keep them away from anyone who matters, and there you have it. Can't have you working as a Healer in St Mungos, they already have three werewolves cleaning the basement bathrooms so they've conveniently got to fire you to stay legal. That's why we need someone like Damocles Belby to spearhead this research. I don't know what his angle is but he's a non-werewolf willing to act as go-between so we can all communicate legally. This potion represents the best hope for us in decades."

"He said he'd seen what the curse can do." Bonnie volunteered.

"Good for him, I suppose. I still don't completely trust him. But this is too good an opportunity to pass up."

Whatever Bonnie had been intending to say in reply died in her throat. A movement out of the corner of her eye had her whirling to her feet with supernaturally fast reflexes and then she was far too close and staring into Marceline's surprised face.

"I didn't hear the door," was the only defence of herself that Bonnie managed to stutter.

"It was open a crack. I thought you were expecting me?"

It took conscious effort on the redhead's part to relax her muscles and change her posture from one of predatory stillness into a more human stance. Remus had frozen too, staring at the newcomer unblinkingly as his face settled into careful blankness.

"I was, I am. Um, this is Remus. He's part of the study too." Bonnie hurriedly explained. "Remus, this is Marceline."

"I'd guessed." he replied brusquely. "I should get going, Bonnie. Thank you for the tea."

He stood, nodded to the redhead and disappeared out of the door in two long strides leaving them alone and tense.

"I don't think your new boyfriend likes me." Marceline finally muttered. Bonnie glowered at her, bad mood from days before returning with a vengeance.

"Have you ever heard of knocking? We might have been in the middle of something!"

"What, like cheating on me with your werewolf pal?" Marceline spat back.

"If you think sitting around drinking tea with our clothes on is cheating then you must really hate when Lady and I go shopping together." Bonnie snapped. "Weren't you the one who ran out of here rather than talk things through the last time we saw each other? I didn't know if you were even going to show today or if we were still together or what. And for your information the very last thing I'd ever do would be to cheat on you, especially with a man. Remus knows I'm a lesbian and apparently he takes me much more seriously than you do about it."

Perhaps it was her conversation earlier in the week with Lydia or just a weariness with arguing but to Bonnie's great surprise something made Marceline back down. She did it with a sigh and a shake of her head but she also took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment and visibly calmed herself.

"Look, I'm not here to fight. I'm sorry. I just... I've missed you. I've been worried. You said you needed me to take you to the underground market, your research is important to you, so here I am. It's a super illegal black market, I assume you have a disguise?"

"Snape sent two vials of Polyjuice."

" _Snape?"_

"Turns out he was Damocles supplier all along."

"Of fucking course he was. So we need hair or something. Probably best to just summon some from a couple of the muggles in the village. It's about twenty miles from Moor House, some little muggle backwater with a few less well known pureblood families on the outskirts. You ready?"

Was it worth staying angry about? Bonnie wavered and found that the more she thought about it the less she wanted to fight either. So she just swept her rain jacket over her shoulders and nodded to show she was ready. Marcy took a careful step closer and raised her hand.

"I'm gonna have to side-along you since you've never been before. We'll go to a safe Apparation point on the side of the castle and grab some hair from the first muggles we see, down our potions and hot-tail it down the town to the market. We've got an hour but so does everyone else there. Get in, buy the ingredients, get out. It should be easy enough. Come on, they'll be starting in thirty minutes. I'm gonna have to take your hand, is that ok?"

Bonnie held out her hand and discovered that she didn't feel as reluctant as she'd expected to be. Marcy's hand was warm against her own, familiar and soft, the redhead was running her thumb absently down the palm before she'd thought better of it. It was impossible to hide the thin smile that found its way to her lips or the pink blush that graced her cheeks at even that most chaste contact.

"I missed you." Bonnie muttered, embarrassed.

"I missed you too, nerd. Come on, let's go. We'll talk about stuff later if you want."

Marceline's hand tightened its grip on her and next second they were both squeezed breathless as the magic of Apparation whisked them to the other side of the country.

...

What would a tiny rural village twenty miles north of Moor House be except for damp and windswept? Bonnie really didn't expect anything else and she wasn't disappointed. They appeared in the crumbling ruins of an old Norman castle that loomed over a curving hill full of ramshackle stone and slate houses that blended perfectly into the gloom of the hills beyond. Despite never having been there before Bonnie immediately recognised it, she knew its people and their struggles and lives. The muggles she passed as they walked were grim faced and bowed against the rain, grubby and obviously poor. It was the same story as Llangorse, the little Welsh town she'd grown up in before Hogwarts. Jobs were hard to find, traditional industries were dying out and the muggle government cared nothing for anyone outside of their own rich elite. The effects were stark on the faces that stared back out of the rain. Too many brows lined with anxiety, grey hairs, cheeks hollowed by chronic hunger. If Marceline saw it she didn't give any indication. She was busy scanning the muggles as they passed, looking for two that were about the right size so they wouldn't have to swap clothes. After several minutes of loitering around a late-opening grocery store a woman and a man entered in front of them and Marceline nodded. The muggle man was only a little taller than her and she'd dressed in fairly androgynous clothes, he'd do. The woman was just a hair shorter than Bonnie and she wasn't walking too fast, they were apparently involved in a very serious discussion of whether it was too early in the season to buy oranges. Neither of them noticed a slim dark skinned girl slide close behind them and whisper a couple of words as she slid a thin strip of wood out from her shirtsleeve.

" _Accio loose hairs!"_

Bonnie was covering them, buying a bottle of juice and distracting the sales assistant by asking if he knew where she could get something called petrol. Marceline was lost in the specifics of their muggle conversation but it didn't matter anyway because next moment the redhead nodded her thanks and was striding back out into the cold rain. Marcy hurried after her and they ducked into an alleyway behind a bakery a little further down the street.

"Ok, we get the hairs in, drink the potions and then it's right down the street to that old stone building in the middle of the marketplace. The muggles think its something to do with cheese or whatever, they can't get down below. We've got, like, ten minutes before they start? You're the woman, I'm the man. Don't smirk at me, nerd, it wasn't deliberate." Marcy added with an eye roll as she dropped the shorter summoned hair into her own vial. It fizzed a dark navy blue and the scent changed to damp wood and sea salt. With a shrug Marceline drank the whole thing and then grimaced at the sensation of her skin bubbling into a new shape. She was pleased to discover she'd been right, she was only maybe two inches taller and her shoes weren't even that tight.

"Look, I'm white!" she told Bonnie with a grin. "And my voice is deep. And I need a shave, damn this guy is stubbly. Is that a muggle thing? Don't muggles have decent razors?"

"We've only got ten minutes, if you were that curious about us you should have taken Muggle Studies at school. Hold my vial, please." the redhead replied briskly as she unfolded the long, curly hair that she'd wrapped up in a cloth to protect. It seemed to take forever to feed it into the small opening and down into the potion which turned a sort of reddish-chestnut and smelled vaguely of old tobacco and something floral. Bonnie gulped it down in a single mouthful and Marceline watched in fascination as her seventeen year old girlfriend dissolved right in front of her to be replaced by a stocky looking woman of maybe a little over thirty years old with a frizzy brown perm.

"You look real mad." Marcy laughed, then laughed even louder when it came out as a baritone boom.

"Next time I pick the hairs. Look at me!" Bonnie hissed. "My stomach, look at my _stomach!_ You managed to pick the only pregnant muggle in the store!"

It was true; beneath a now rather tight sweater there was a definite bump, her feet felt like they'd swollen four sizes larger inside her dainty shoes and all kinds of uncomfortable aches and pains were making themselves known across her borrowed body.

"Oh, shit! Babe, I'm not even sure how that happened. She didn't look pregnant from behind!"

"You only looked at her from behind?"

"What was I supposed to do, tap her on the shoulder and ask her if she wouldn't mind standing up straight so I could see how well she measured up against my girlfriend?"

"Urgh, this is typical! We're going to be late if we don't go right now and I need that shipment. Come on, better hope I don't go into labour while under the effects of this potion. I have no idea what would happen."

Bonnie ducked out of their alleyway and waddled off down the street muttering furiously to herself while Marceline followed with a wide grin plastered across her borrowed face. At least their lives weren't boring.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello readers my old friends. I come with a promise that now I'm back on nights and back to work writing is going to resume at a faster pace one again. This past year has been rough and I'm still not completely well but I'm improving slowly and I always have time to talk to my readers and keep providing fresh content. Not a lot else to say I suppose, except to thank you for your ongoing support and maaaaaybe request a review from you if you have time? They're always the highlight, I love to know what people think of my work.**

 **Content Warning: illegal acts, a cameo from everyone's favourite tree witch, the Mystery Deepens.**

* * *

For all her concerns over borrowing the body of a pregnant muggle, Bonnie was still able to move with surprising speed. She took full advantage of that and left Marceline gaping after her as she hurried away down the rainy street towards the underground auction location. Marceline had described it as being 'something to do with cheese', Bonnie couldn't quite repress a snort to herself when she realised that the round stone building they were making for was actually an old fashioned butter market built long before the time of refrigeration. The dairy products had been stored in a cold underground chamber while merchants and customers haggled over the price above, she doubted any muggles had used it for its original purpose in at least fifty years. Bonnie found it a little unsettling that the place had been repurposed by the wizarding community, especially the criminal element. And she was part of that criminal element now, too. It was a fact that sat uncomfortably on her conscience but there was no other way to offer any hope at all to the rest of her kind.

They ducked across the road together and approached the building, trying to look as casual as possible. A passing muggle in a car waved and Marceline waved back jauntily. At least she seemed to be enjoying herself, Bonnie figured.

A quick tap with Marceline's wand tip against the bolted trapdoor leading to the cellar produced a single eye staring at them from a hidden panel in the floor.

"Pass phrase?" a disembodied male voice asked in a grunt.

"Those who shine brightest die first." Marceline replied with a smirk.

"That's cheerful." Bonnie muttered as the eye disappeared and the trapdoor swung open. Marceline just shrugged and bowed, indicating that she should go first.

"After you, m'lady. Allow me to escort you in your delicate state."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"As if I would ever take joy from breaking the law or mocking your hilarious disguise. Oh wait, that's exactly what I'd do."

The chamber had obviously been magically expanded from its original muggle proportions. Stepping down the staircase was like descending into a subterranean cathedral lit with thousands of floating candles and despite all her time in the wizarding world Bonnie still caught her breath in surprise. Huge carved columns held up a massive vaulted ceiling while a thick crowd of people wove in between, some selling dubiously legal or openly illicit wares and others browsing furtively. Many wore what she assumed were also borrowed faces, some appeared blank and featureless and she even spotted a few of the enchanted animal masks from Meán Fómhair. Bonnie shuddered and looked away, she didn't want to think about that night if she could help it. Her disgust had shifted from the original revulsion of anything that felt even vaguely like incest to a wider sense of violation. It wasn't that it was Marceline's fault, Bonnie was well aware that her girlfriend hadn't know what was about to happen either, but she relived the same trauma every full moon when her body was taken outside of her control. It was simply unacceptable to somebody with a pathologically iron grip over herself that the wild magic should be able to compel her to act against her will, even when it was something as fun and pleasurable as sharing intimacy with her girlfriend. Bonnie shook her head and shoved the thought towards her head wolf who pounced on it with a mental growl and joyfully tore it to shreds.

"An enchanted rose for your enchanting lady, sir? Or a lucky sprig of heather, hm? Keep your little ones protected from the faeries perhaps, keep the goblins honest with your gold?" a balding old woman asked slyly as they shoved past her in the crowd. She had a tray of faintly glowing flowers and her smile didn't reach the cold eyes staring up from her chubby face.

"Keep walking, hag." Marceline growled in her newly baritone voice.

"No need to be rude, my lord. People might get the impression you was high an' mighty, pushing around a poor old woman like me. Wouldn't want to wake up and find some cursed stinkweed throttling your garden, would you?" the hag replied with an ugly scowl.

"Are you threatening me?" Marcy demanded. She might have pulled her wand from her sleeve if Bonnie hadn't laid a hand against her arm and murmured to her.

"Leave it, Marcy. She's not what we're here for."

The hag's eyes flickered between the two of them and she cocked her head then spat meditatively onto the flagstones as Marceline reluctantly backed down and led Bonnie away through the crowd, staring over her shoulder all the time to make sure the old woman saw that she was watching her. It was good luck that the face she'd borrowed was so rugged and rough because her customary dark Abadeer scowl on his craggy features made an impressive sight. They pushed past temporary market stalls and haggling traders until they made it to the most densely packed area of the chamber where a low stage had been built. A tall man in astronomical robes with a bush of curly brown hair cascading from behind his enchanted badger mask held his audience captivated as he auctioned off various illicit materials. Each lot revolved slowly in the air next to him and disappeared as a buyer was agreed, presumably into their pocket. Then-

"Lot two hundred twenty four, half a hundredweight of powdered moon gentian. This rare plant is gathered locally beneath a full moon by a fair haired virgin, rarer than unicorn's horn. Can I begin the bidding at a hundred galleons?" he announced.

"I don't have that kind of money!" Bonnie hissed to Marceline as a burly man with a featureless face raised his hand to begin the bidding.

"Relax, nerd. I've got this." Marceline muttered back before she nodded to the auctioneer and raised her hand. "Two hundred galleons!"

"Two fifty." the faceless man shouted.

"Three hundred!" Marcy shot right back.

"Four!"

"Five hundred!"

"Six hundred."

The crowd looked between the two bidders like they were watching a particularly energetic tennis match.

"I'll go all the way to a thousand." Marceline announced loudly. The crowd fell silent, turning to stare at the man.

"A thousand galleons, going to the new father in the front row." the auctioneer said into the silence as the other bidder shook his head. "Going once, going twice, s-"

"AUROR RAID! RUN!"

Screams and panic tore through the crowd at the yell and suddenly the air ripped with a flurry of apparation as law enforcement officers began to appear out of nowhere around them. Marceline shot forward onto the stage to grab the moon gentian from where it still hung in the air in the confusion then was back in the crowd a moment later, wrapping Bonnie into a tight hug. The auctioneer had fled, leaving his wares and buyers behind to face whatever the Ministry raid would bring. For a single heartbeat Marcy crushed Bonnie against her with arms stronger than she was used to, squeezing them both back into the space between space, following the ley lines back to the cabin-

The squeezing snapped back and they were still in the chamber surrounded by aurors.

"They've put a fucking apparation block on us!" Marcy yelled in horror. "Oh Merlin I'm going to get arrested, I'm going to jail, my father is going to _kill me-"_

"Wait." Bonnie muttered under her breath as she stared toward the exit. Plenty of the crowd had managed to get away before the apparation block had been activated, it was only Marcy's delay to grab the ingredients that had cost them precious seconds. There weren't all that many people left in the chamber and the buyers were being processed by younger aurors as their superiors seized the contraband from the stalls lining the main thoroughfare. A familiar blonde head was weaving through the crowd, putting a magical binding onto the hands of the arrested. Bonnie moved off in his direction and dragged Marceline along with her.

"Finn! Sixth year, Valentine's night. I told McGonagall there was no way it could have been you in the Ravenclaw bathroom with your girlfriend because you were out patrolling with me. You said to tell you if I ever needed a favour." Bonnie muttered in a rush when he turned to them.

"Bonnie?" Finn asked incredulously. "And... that's Abadeer with you, isn't it? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Later, I promise I'll tell you everything. Come on, man. Help me out here, I can't get arrested." she pleaded quietly.

"I can't!"

"Sure you can. You _promised,_ any time I was in trouble. Please. I'll be forever in your debt."

Finn looked between the two unfamiliar faces and bit his lip hesitantly. He glanced around to see how close his direct superiors were then pulled out a length of cord from his pocket.

"Never again, right? This is a one time deal." Finn told them quietly. "Put your hands out like I'm binding you. You too, Abadeer. Trust me."

Marceline didn't, but she was all out of options. She reluctantly held out her hand and let him tie her and Bonnie together at the wrists. Finn touched his wand tip to the cord and it glowed briefly with what she recognised as a non-verbal Portkey charm. Marceline had to reluctantly admit to herself that she was impressed, she didn't know he was competent enough to produce that kind of complex spell without saying it out loud.

"In exactly thirty seconds it's going to activate. Shout whatever you want as a fake activation phrase, I'll be well out of the way by then. Bonnie, you owe me." he repeated before turning and marching away to arrest more illegal buyers. There was just time for Marceline to squeeze Bonnie's hand comfortingly, look around to check Finn wasn't next to them and decide what she was going to shout. It had to be something cool, something they'd remember, oh Merlin, she was running out of time- The cord around her wrist tingled to warn that it was about to activate and she yelled;

"BE GAY, DO CRIMES!"

"They've got a Portkey!"

The chamber dissolved around them before the aurors could react and it was all Bonnie could do to cling onto Marceline's hand as she swirled through space. A breathless moment later they landed in the reeds at the side of Llangorse Lake and Marceline let out an explosive howl of laughter.

"Did you see their faces?"

"Seriously, 'be gay, do crimes'? You might as well have just yelled 'hey it's me, Marceline Abadeer from Moor House, Yorkshire'!"

"Mertens actually helped us! What the hell, did you put a nonverbal Imperius on him?"

"He owed me. I covered for him losing his virginity."

They stared at each other in the reflected starlight from the lake and both burst out laughing again at the same time. It might have been the relief making her light headed or the breathlessness left over from her adrenaline but Bonnie didn't even question it when Marcy tugged her forward into a deep kiss.

"We, uhh, we're ok again?" Marcy asked when they finally broke apart.

"You were fully prepared to drop a thousand galleons of your own money onto my research had you not just stolen the ingredients when the raid happened, you almost got arrested for me and you were manipulated by the wild magic just as much as I was. I realise I've been acting like as asshole." Bonnie replied softly. She looked down and away, ashamed, but Marceline caught her chin and tilted her face back up gently until their eyes met.

"This is a really weird time for you, babe. And for me, too. It's ok if you need time to process how you feel about stuff. It's even ok if you take it out on me, that's just how couples are sometimes. Sure, you're a spoilt little princess, but you're _my_ princess."

"You're a strange girl, Abadeer."

"But I'm _your_ strange girl, Sugar. Now come on inside, we're standing knee deep in freezing mud and I have a ton of kissing you to catch up on."

...

It was a strange feeling to be comfortable in Moor House. Strange to walk past her mother's photograph hanging in the long gallery and not avert her eyes at the tender smile too like her own. It was the night before the full moon, and Marceline couldn't sleep. She wished there'd been a portrait painted with an enchanted voice but the only likeness of her mother that was left to her was the enlarged photo, a full-length portrait that clearly showed her emerging baby bump. Marceline had always assumed that it had been taken during her mother's pregnancy with her but now she wondered if it was the brother she didn't remember, the anonymous criminal who'd invaded her home.

"Hey Mum. The wind's really loud tonight, I can't sleep. Figured you wouldn't be able to run away from me if I wanted to talk, right? Since you're a photo and all." Marcy sighed as she stood before the picture. The image of her mother wore a tender smile and stroked a hand across her stomach lovingly.

"Is that me in there, or... y'know. Him? What did he do, Mum? Did you know he was a criminal, was it before you died? I hope not. You should have gone to your grave thinking your kids were both good, right? I dunno, I guess I'm kinda a criminal now, too. And the only reason Daddy isn't in jail for fraud is because his friends on the Wizengamot wrote loopholes into the laws for him. Would you have cared? I want to think you'd have been ok with who I grew up to be but I guess we'll never know. See Mum, there's this girl. She's just amazing, like, perfect. She's the only person who's immune to my charms and she makes my brain go all dumb when I look at her. Is that how Daddy made you feel?"

She could have stayed talking like that all night but a small noise behind her had her whipping around with her wand out. Simon raised his hands hurriedly and Marcy lowered her wand.

"I surrender, take me to the aurors." he laughed.

"I didn't know you were still up." Marceline replied sheepishly.

"Oh yes, when you've lived as many decades as I have you'll find yourself up all night tending to the constant demands of your bladder. I was simply on my way to the bathroom when I heard voices."

Marceline's face darkened.

"Voices?" she prompted. "Like, more than one?"

"You weren't talking to someone?" he asked with a frown.

"I was talking to Mum's picture but I didn't expect a reply. Do you think-"

" _Revelio!"_

Marshall's Disillusionment charm fell away to reveal him leaning against the wall opposite, twisting an unusually thin wand between his fingers and smirking for all he was worth.

"Uncle Simon!" he purred with a grin like a predator. "What a surprise, I suppose my ex-father asked you to move in and guard me? Pft. That little usurper was always your favourite, wasn't she? What, nothing to say to your nephew? Oh you're wondering where I got the wand, see I-"

Simon wasn't wondering where he'd gotten the wand. Simon was carefully tilting his wrist so that the wand up his own sleeve was at the right angle and without a single word of warning a burst of red light lit the corridor. Marshall crumpled, Stupefied, as Marceline gaped in shock.

" _Holy shit!"_ she gasped. "You've still got it!"

The old man strode forward with surprising speed for his advanced age and swiftly kicked the wand out of his nephew's limp hand with a grim frown casting a stormcloud over his face. He bent low over the prone man, checked his pulse and breathing then sighed heavily.

"Do you know that in over seventy years as a duelist I've only been disarmed twice?" he asked Marceline as he levitated Marshall and set off down the dark hall. She hurried to keep up with him, eyes wide in surprise.

"I never knew you were such a badass." she replied truthfully. Simon smiled over his shoulder but his expression was dark again by the time they reached the suite of rooms that had been begrudgingly given to Marshall.

Marceline had to wonder if they were the same rooms he'd occupied as a boy, was this where he'd grown up and turned to darkness? Had he sprawled on the huge four poster bed while he penned letters to other Death Eaters? Surely her father would have put him in a guest suite rather than let him back into the family's space? But the walls were decorated with out-dated Quidditch posters and Slytherin flags, it looked like her brother hadn't bothered to redecorate on his release from prison. Marceline had to wonder how much of his mind was still intact after ten years in Azkaban or if he simply didn't know how creepy it was that he was stuck a decade in the past.

"Go wake your father." Simon directed her. Marceline nodded and reluctantly left them.

She broke into a jog and then a full sprint, arriving at Hunson's door out of breath with her heart thumping uncomfortably in the base of her throat. It felt awkward to knock on his door, even more awkward to let herself in when she got no reply. She'd been in her father's room many times through the day but had never ever disturbed him at night before, not even as a small child. He stirred from his own lavish bed the moment the door opened and was wide awake and bolt upright by the time she was by his side.

"Something's happened?" Hunson asked in a scratchy voice as he swung himself out of bed.

"I... Yeah. Something, to do with... _him_. I don't completely remember, he's got something he shouldn't." Marceline replied after a second. No matter how hard she strained her mind wasn't quite holding onto the memories.

Hunson was already shrugging a heavy robe over his nightshirt as he hurtled out into the hall, making for his estranged son's suite. Marceline followed with her heart pounding in the base of her throat and her wand lit, held out in front of her more like a sword than a light source. What did it mean that Marshall had a wand? How had he come into possession of it, was he going back to Azkaban? She almost collided with her father's back when he stopped dead in front of her.

"Stand aside, Cake. He needs to be dealt with."

Marceline looked around Hunson's shoulder and found their way blocked by the tiny, patchy skinned house elf assigned to her brother. The elf had her hands stretched out in front of her and despite her obvious terror and the shaking in her limbs a visible aura of magic formed a force field, preventing them from getting near the door to Marshall's room.

"The old mistress said Cake was to look after Master Marshall, little Master is our only Master, not the Master of the house. Cake doesn't take orders from nobody but her Master Marshall."

Hunson's back stiffened in surprise at the unexpected defiance. Marshall and Marceline had both told him no plenty of times, before his wife had died and he retired from public life he'd been a prosecutor with the Wizengamot and argued with the finest minds in the land for fun and profit. But he'd never had an elf speak back to him, certainly not one that had entered the family when he'd married rather than having the honour of being born an Adabeer elf. The rigid cherrywood wand that he always had secured to his arm snapped out into his waiting hand with just a thought and he raised it grimly, completely ready to kill the elf if he had to. Cake braced herself and pulled in a deep breathe as her former master's wand tip began to flicker with the first stirrings of a spell-

Marceline woke with a gasp, confused and somehow with the impression that she was not where she was supposed to be. Her left hand itched fiercely and she scratched at it every couple of minutes as she dressed, still yawning, and made her way downstairs. Simon was slouched over a large mug of coffee in the breakfast parlour, he looked up and offered her a tired smile before pouring a second mug and handing it across.

"Didn't sleep well? You look like you died in the night." the older man offered when Marcy simply grunted in thanks and slumped down next to him.

"Cheers, you look fabulous, too. Is Daddy already out?" Marceline asked after she'd drained her mug in three gulps.

"Your father is feeling under the weather this morning, I'm afraid. I've had an elf send a tray to his room. This unbinding... I know Hunson can look after himself but I'm worried that he's put too much of his energy into the Old Way. Winter approaches and he is frailer than ever."

Marcy stared down at the empty mug in her hands, turning it over and over simply to have something to occupy her hands with while her mind was engaged elsewhere. Long windows looked out over the grounds of Moor House from the breakfast parlour, as much as there even were grounds anymore. Off in the distance the treetops of the sacred grove waved in the ceaseless moor winds and shed an endless stream of crimson and gold as their dying leaves blew loose. They reminded her that she had an obligation to her family, to her father, no matter how poor their relationship had been for most of her life. Marceline nodded to herself, she'd made a decision.

"Tell him I'm going to do the unbinding at midwinter. I'm his heir, my blood is his blood. The Old Way is a part of my heritage and I need to protect him. From himself, if I have to."

"I can't say I'm happy about it, but I understand." Simon nodded gravely. "Maybe your father has the best of it, perhaps I should go back to bed for an hour or two myself. I'm feeling rather exhausted this morning."

It was weird, Marceline considered as she said her goodbyes to her uncle and buckled an extra thick cloak around her shoulders, she felt really tired too. Like she'd been up all night, but she remembered perfectly well going to bed at a reasonable time. She shrugged and put it out of her mind, she'd have plenty of time to rest in her animagus form while she watched over Bonnie that evening. They were slowly getting into a routine with the full moons, Marcy excused herself from Moor House for 'band practice' and went straight to Diagon Alley, bought as much fresh high quality meat as the magical butchers would sell her and then apparated straight to Bonnie's cabin. While the werewolf paced nervously she'd play her bass or sing, share old magical fairy stories that her girlfriend didn't know or sometimes read out loud. Nothing worked to calm the redhead but it distracted her until Peppermint had finished cooking an enormous plate of meat and once she'd wolfed that down Bonnie usually relaxed a little. They'd spend the afternoon together until an hour before moonrise when Bonnie regretfully stripped and locked herself in her silver cage. Marceline would assume her bat form and spend the night in the cellar with her girlfriend then in the morning she'd gently carry an unconscious Bonnie to her bed once she regained her human shape. Watching her girlfriend writhe in agony as her body ripped itself apart and transformed into a monster wasn't exactly quality time but there was nothing in the world Marceline would have missed it for. Not even a mystery.

"Cake." she read out loud in confusion as she reached for the front door and realised that the annoying itch in her hand was coming from a word scrawled hastily into her palm. It was her own handwriting, it felt like she'd gone through the first couple of layers of skin with her quill when she'd scrawled it. Marceline frowned to herself as she strode out across the windswept grounds and out towards the edge of the wards. It seemed she'd developed a habit of writing on herself in her sleep, she'd have to remember to ask Bonnie if she'd done that before.


	13. Chapter 13

**Ahh my fanchildren, how long has it been? Come, form a trust circle around me. I'm sorry I took a break from writing. I had the worst writer's block of my life for like, two months, and I put it down to personal stress. But I'm here and life is finally looking up! I have two wonderful people in my life right now, I'm healing, I'm getting all my personal shit sorted. And you know what? I'm gonna be an aunt again this summer! Exciting times. How are all my fanchildren, you guys still good? Drop me a message and/or review and let me know what you think of the chapter!**

 **Obviously the magical creature is an original creation, mostly because I object to JKR's lazy breed naming and lack of concern for non-human welfare in general. There are a couple of additional canon characters and a twist, see if you can spot it!**

 **Content Warning: A wild Snape appeared! Magical substance abuse (accidental! do not copy!), peril, creatures, more pre-Roman British magical lore, a twist, OC coven structure even if the characters are canon, implied torture and character death.**

* * *

 _Moon gentian, moon gentian! MOON! MOON!_

Bonnie was getting sick of her headwolf chanting it over and over as they made their way into the cabin and down to the basement to her potions lab, and she wasn't shy of telling it so.

 _Yes, well done, you know the name of the ingredient we got,_ she thought back with a sigh. The wolf responded by turning three excited mental circles and letting loose a series of happy little yips.

 _It smells like the wild times!_ the wolf sang happily. _Wild in the moonlight, run and jump, crunch the things that go squeak, drink their blood, hunt, kill, fun!_

 _No. Sit in the silver cage on the full moon nights. No hunting, no running wild. You might hurt someone._

She felt the wolf whine and shake its head in frustration and she let out a long breath that had completely failed to calm her any. As the moon grew stronger in the night sky it seemed like Bonnie was more and more at mercy of her wolfish instincts in whatever form they took. And if the wolf wanted to prance around and howl with joy over some stupid dried plant just because it had the word 'moon' in its name then she would have to put up with it. The urge to also prance and howl was strong but her desire not to look like an idiot in front of her girlfriend was stronger and kept her mouth shut and feet still.

"You ok, babe?" Marcy asked.

"Yeah. Just my furry dingus being annoying like always. Let's get this stuff stashed, this bag is heavy." she replied, pushing the wolf unceremoniously to the edge of her thoughts.

Half a hundredweight was not a measurement Bonnie was familiar with and it was surprisingly heavy for such a small bag. It must have been magically shrunk, she figured as she hefted it onto her desk with a thump. A quick tap of her wand revealed the original dimensions were more like a potato sack once it was back to its full size. It slowly split open along its top to reveal not the ultramarine blue of the muggle gentian flower that Bonnie had expected but instead a fine powder coloured deep crimson, the exact colour of fresh blood. The moon gentian gleamed in the low light and the smallest movement of the air sent ripples and swirls dancing hypnotically across its finely milled surface.

 _MOON FLOWER! MOON FLOWER!_ the wolf howled, and Bonnie finally understood what the excitement was for. The powdered moon gentian was simply mesmerising. It was a redder red than she had ever seen before, a red so vivid it pulled her gaze and whispered directly to her wolf about blood and darkness, moonlight, the slide of fangs across soft human flesh. She shivered despite the warmth of the room. Was that how the werewolf had felt the night she'd been bitten? Did her headwolf feel that way when she transformed and lost her mind? It was somewhere between fevered excitement and the edge of panic. Only the moon gentian would make it better, she was suddenly aware that it was the most incredible, beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

"Don't. You don't know what it might do." Marcy warned.

Her voice pulled Bonnie from her trance and she dropped her hands in confusion. When had she reached out to touch the powder? But it was so beautiful, it shone like a blood moon. Muted red rainbows danced where the light hit the tops of miniature powder dunes, how had she never realized there were so many shades of red?

"Bonnie, seriously. Do not touch some random potions ingredient that we just stole from a super illegal market, it could be poisonous."

"It's so pretty, though!"

"Don't touch! This shit has some freaky voodoo effect on you, probably cause it only grows under the full moon. Your werewolf-"

" _I want it!"_

Maybe it was the wolf that took over, maybe it was the intoxication of the magical plant, but Bonnie found herself lunging forward without any memory of deciding to move when Marcy made to reseal the sack of moon gentian. It seemed to her that everything slowed down. As she sailed through the air there was plenty of time to watch the surprise grow in Marceline's eyes, the way her mouth opened as she sucked in a breath to speak or maybe yell. Bonnie watched helplessly as the momentum of her body carried her forwards into Marceline's arms, watched as the wand she'd been casting a Sealing Charm with suddenly jerked upwards and sent the sack of moon gentian soaring above the redhead in a neat arc only to collide with Marceline's face in a spectacular burst of crimson. Then time sped up and her world was filled with horrified screaming.

...

Hogwarts prefects were granted certain privileges beyond simply having their own private bathrooms and being allowed out later than other students. For example, they were entrusted with the contact information for the various Heads of House should an emergency arise and the required staff members were uncontactable any other way. The grates for each private fire should be password protected, Snape thought to himself huffily as he scrambled to pull his discarded robe back on and hurried to see what the feminine screaming coming from his private lounge was about. He'd never have admitted it, even under Veritaserum, but he'd been looking forward to a relaxing bath after the day he'd had.

The sight that awaited him did not bode well for his bath. Or for the rest of his evening. Because that was the insufferable Sugar girl, the damned _werewolf_ , sobbing and staring out at him from his fireplace. She tried to stutter out a request or a defence or something but he was already in her mind, watching her most recent memory in growing fury.

"Out of the way, idiot girl. I'm coming through the grate." he hissed after a long second where he mentally confirmed she'd at least checked his young cousin's breathing and left her in the recovery position before seeking aid. Sugar's panicked face disappeared and the flames returned to their normal size for an instant only to turn vivid green as Snape threw his own pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace and ducked beneath the mantle. With a sour frown he shouldered his emergency potions accidents kit and snarled the name of his destination, watching his rooms and his relaxing evening of solitude vanish from right in front of him.

The air on other side of the grate was heavily wreathed in the sickly sweet fragrance of moon gentian. Snape spared one instant to wrinkle his nose at the invasive stink before he was hurrying forward to crouch by the prone form of his cousin twitching on the floor.

Marceline didn't look good. Her skin had already taken on the unhealthy grey pallor of moon gentian poisoning and the sliver of her eyes that were still visible beneath heavy lids were blackening by the second. Soon they'd be nothing but empty darkness, staring into a moonlit otherworld invisible to those not under the influence of the flower. He'd never seen it progress so rapidly before.

"Sugar, get the wormwood infusion from my bag." Snape barked at the whimpering redhead. He spared no attention on her spluttering and whining until the bottle he'd ordered failed to materialize in his hand and then he whipped around to stare at her, almost crackling with static fury. " _The wormwood, Sugar!"_

"But, but it's toxic on its own, it might hurt-"

"Idiot child! Do you think I don't know what I'm doing?" Snape roared. "Without wormwood her mind will be lost in the gentian haze. Do you want her lost forever?"

Sugar paled even further and began frantically rummaging in his bag. A moment later she fumbled the correct bottle into his hands before collapsing down next to her lover with another pathetic whimper. Snape ignored her and concentrated on his work, though his contempt was ever present beneath the surface. If Sugar's hubris got herself cursed or killed that was simply an unfortunate but rather poetically just end to her. But Marceline was the sole heir of the only family willing to allow him a tenuous claim, he wasn't about to let her poor taste in bedfellow claim her life.

Seven drops of the wormwood infusion into her slackened mouth had the darkness receding from her eyes a little and stilled the awful twitching but it did nothing to reduce the pallor of her complexion or the deep, almost too-slow breathing. Snape allowed himself to intrude into Marceline's mind for a moment. He lingered just long enough to confirm his worst fears before muttering a dark oath and turning to the distraught werewolf.

"The wormwood will slow the progress of the gentian but it will not reverse what has been done to her. There is only a single known cure for such a profound moon gentian poisoning. She needs the venom of the Waking Dreamer."

"I don't know what that means." Sugar finally replied in a small voice. Snape couldn't repress his snort, it must have cost her just as much to admit ignorance as it had to seek his aid in the first place. There would be time to explain later. At least, he hoped so.

"You have an elf, yes?" he asked.

Sugar nodded and an instant later an unmistakably Abadeer elf appeared with a pop in front of them. He was halfway through a demure bow when he caught sight of Marceline lying on the floor and froze in shock.

"Find fruit, elf. Apples, the redder the better. Strawberries. All the fruit, everything you can get your hands on. Put them in a magically expanded sack and return here. Quickly."

The elf nodded and disappeared without a word. Snape turned to the werewolf with a scowl. Better to get the explanation of out the way.

"Have you heard of the Spinsters of Stonehenge?" he demanded. Sugar shook her head. "They are an ancient druidic cult, older even than the Abadeers. They protect the magical part of the ancient complex and inhabit the barrows and cave structures beneath. Their magic is strong and ancient. The moon gentian can be counteracted but only with the aid of the Spinsters' Waking Dreamer."

"What's happened to her?" Sugar asked quietly. Her eyes were too still, trained on Marceline's face and despite his cold, dead heart Snape couldn't help but feel a little sorry for them both. For one second he was not staring down at his younger cousin, he was staring into the glassy, sightless eyes of his beautiful Lily that awful night-

Snape strangled the memory and pushed it mercilessly away from himself. Nobody was going to die, not least the only kinswoman who acknowledged him.

"She is lost in dreams. The moon gentian is a powerful plant, Sugar. It only grows beneath the light of the full moon which means that not only does it take an extremely long time to bloom but that the flowers are prohibitively expensive. They are imbued with the magic of the moon and as such are powerful reagents in potioncraft and for recreational use. Miss Abadeer has inhaled more than a hundred times the standard dose and is beyond my power to heal. Without help, she will waste away without ever waking up."

"What about St Mungo's? We could-"

"Get her arrested from her hospital bed for possession of a Class A non-tradable material." Snape finished for her with a scowl. "Why do you think it was being auctioned illicitly? A werewolf bringing a moon gentian overdose to the authorities, you'll be lucky if they don't execute you on sight. Use your brain, you stupid girl."

"This is my fault." Sugar murmured, mostly to herself.

"Yes." Snape agreed. "Entirely. Had you been half as adept as Damocles claimed you'd have known to only handle the powder with gloves and a Bubble Head Charm. However you are no more than a barely competent schoolgirl with delusions of grandeur. Your hubris may easily kill your paramour. Hope that the Waking Dreamer takes pity on her, Sugar."

The werewolf didn't reply. She was tenderly stroking Marceline's cheek and sniffing back more tears. Snape couldn't bear to watch, it was too personal and emotional. Despite their blood link being tenuous at best Marceline still bore a significant resemblance to his mother's side of the family and it was too hard to watch a beautiful redhead muggleborn gaze with love at a pale, dark haired shape. His traitorous brain tried to assault him with visions of Lily again and once again he strangled the memories and tossed them away from himself. Just to have something to occupy his hands he instead turned to the mess of ingredients Sugar had pulled out to find the wormwood infusion and with an internal sigh went to work rearranging his kit. By the time he was finished the elf was back with a sack full of fruit, presumably from Moor House, and his treacherous emotions were locked tightly beneath the occlumency shields in his mental vault.

"The mistress is sick." the elf squeaked.

"Yes." Sugar agreed gravely, "But I'm going to do everything I can to make her better, I promise. That's why I called Professor Snape."

The last thing he wanted was a tearful house elf turning unsettlingly large eyes to him imploringly and throwing itself at his feet. Snape took a step back instinctively.

"Please sir, you must save the mistress! Peppermint promised her mother, sir! Peppermint has been in the mistress' family for almost fifty years, and no fatalities, not even when the little master- _gnr- hgrr-_ " He broke off into a choked cough and shook his head. "Peppermint still can't talk about it, sir. Not to you. Ask the master, sir, but poor old Peppermint can't."

"Sugar?" Snape raised an eyebrow at her, the single gesture of displeasure that had sent her into fits of mental panic during her time as his student, but she didn't even look around to answer him.

"Family secret. Can't tell you, nothing to do with this. Ask Hunson. Can we go now?"

With a wordless flick of his wand Marceline floated still unconscious into the air and hung limp by his side. He grasped Sugar none too gently by the shoulder as she wrapped her arms around her lover and rested one tearstained cheek against her shoulder. The redhead asked no more questions, didn't even flinch as Snape side-along apparated them both to the edge of the ancient earthworks surrounding Stonehenge. It wasn't a difficult trip, much easier than if he'd tried to apparate to a random location with two passengers. Stonehenge lay at the epicentre of several key ley lines in the British Isles and its ancient stones had been soaked in the blood of countless generations of druids. It was the magical heartbeat of the Old Way, a place too primal for the Ministry to even acknowledge because it lay so far outside of the experiences of most wizards. To those who still maintained a connection to the Old Way and the wild magic Stonehenge was unmistakable, glowing bright in the magical landscape like a second sunrise.

The ley line spat them out at the edge of the earthworks and Sugar made to hurry forward, only to find Snape still holding her shoulder in a death grip. She turned to stare at him with confusion in her eyes.

"The Inner Sanctum is forbidden to men." he informed her curtly. Maybe Sugar was about to question him or argue but they were interrupted by a stranger. Snape knew who she was at least and executed a small bow against his natural instincts.

She was a woman, well into her eighties but still sprightly and alert; she stared around at them with eyes as clear and bright as a twenty year old. When her gaze alighted on Snape she scowled.

"If you hope to sell your daughters to the Spinsters you've been sadly misinformed." the woman announced. "You have twenty seconds to state your business."

"Powdered moon gentian inhalation." he replied, cold and curt but still with a thin veneer of manners colouring his words. It wouldn't do to anger to Revered Mother.

"How much?" she asked, turning to examine Marceline's still slumped form.

"At least a hundred times the safe limit,"

"Has she had wormwood?"

"She's still breathing isn't she?"

The Revered Mother took a breath as though she was about to reprimand him before visibly calming herself and motioning to the looming monument behind them.

"You," she pointed to Snape, "leave. You, girl, bring you sister and follow me."

"She's not my-"

"All women are sisters in the Spinsters' Coven." the old woman explained as they hurried across the dark grass. "My name is Sister Groff, Revered Mother and Head Witch of the Spinsters. But you may call me Betty."

...

Like so many of Britain's ancient magical monuments Stonehenge was protected from muggles. They only saw the first two rings of stones and the wide expanse of grass between, their eyes slid right past the inner circle of standing stones and the steps leading steeply into the barrow below. It was down these steps and into the ancient caves that three shadows hurried beneath a cloudy night sky. Any other time Bonnie would have stopped to gaze in awe at the incredible Neolithic cave art. Magically animated mammoths and woolly rhino cantered around the walls, chased by stylised hunters with spears and bows. Their magic was all for nothing though, nothing could tear her eyes from Marceline's face or quiet the screaming of the wolf in her head. Her girlfriend's skin had turned a sickly grey, tendons and veins standing out edged in green like she was being consumed from the inside by poison. By the enchanted torchlight of the barrow it was clear to see that Marceline's eyes were darting around beneath their closed lids, lost in dreams just like Snape had said. They didn't seem to be good dreams. Marceline twitched and frowned in her sleep; every now and then a gasp or small whimper left her lips and tore a fresh hole in Bonnie's heart.

"You carry the werewolf curse." the Revered Mother spoke unexpectedly.

"Yes." Bonnie agreed. She saw no point in hiding it.

"And you bring us the Abadeer heir."

"You know who she is?"

"She has the look of the family. I knew her great-uncle a very long time ago." the older woman replied with an expression that in the flickering torchlight could be either a smile or a grimace.

They came to a chamber deep within the earth, full of smokeless firelight and swirling green and blue geometric patterns decorating the huge flat stones of the wall. The air was different in here, Bonnie noticed past her all consuming panic. Cooler, fresher. Almost humid-

A splash and an angry hiss accompanied a rough hand on the back of her shirt pulling her away from the deep pool of water she'd almost stepped into.

"Careful, girl! She might look pretty but she'll take a nasty bite out of you all the same!"

"Sister Trunks. We have work to do."

The woman addressed by the Revered Mother was just as elderly but looked much more approachable. She had a toothless grin and smile lines so deep that her face was crisscrossed with shadows even in direct light. Where the Revered Mother was tall and handsome given her age Sister Trunks appeared every inch the mischievous old grandmother. Her hair was a bright white streaked with the occasional pale gold. Without her wrinkles and with her hair returned to the bright blonde glory of her youth Sister Trunks must have been quite the bombshell in her day. She was the exact opposite of the Revered Mother, rosy cheeked instead of handsome, short and round instead of statuesque.

"Hazel, we have need of the Dreamer. A sister has been poisoned with moon gentian." the Revered Mother announced over Bonnie's head.

"Hm, well she's in a foul mood like usual but a sacrifice should do the trick. Did you bring any apples, child?" the woman called Hazel asked, turning to Bonnie. The redhead held up the bag of fruit collected by Peppermint. She was still too shaken to talk much, shivering despite the warmth so far beneath the earth, unable to keep her extremities from trembling from the effects of fear and adrenaline.

"Sit in the corner, poor girl. You may watch but don't interfere. The Dreamer's methods can appear rough but they are necessary." the Revered Mother told her.

Bonnie didn't remember which old lady lead her to a seat or which one took the bag of apples. She was following commands on autopilot and never once took her eyes from Marceline's sleeping face. When the pool of water burst open with a splash she reeled back instinctively but none of the usual fight or flight response filled her limbs. She just felt hollow, numb. Like she'd fallen from a height and was lying broken on cold rocks. Logically the creature that emerged from the pool was a surprise and under any other circumstances Bonnie would have had a thousand questions. Not that night. She just watched with shadowed eyes and trembling limbs while a long, lithe water dragon swirled up to hover shimmering in the air.

"The Moonscale Shimauma Tatsu. Magnificent, isn't she?" Sister Trunks announced to the room in general.

Where had the Revered Mother gone? Bonnie wondered it in just as detached a way as she wondered how a rare and highly illegal Japanese water dragon had ended up in an enchanted pool below Stonehenge. The answer would be important to her later but all she could do was listen to the wolf howl and whimper in her head, cower on her seat and try not to tear at her skin in self-loathing. She was in shock, she knew that in the logical part of her brain, but in her distraught state it was impossible to do anything useful with the knowledge.

"Here! No need to snap my hand off! Catch!"

Sister Trunks' voice rang around the stone lined chamber and reverberated from the walls with a happy laugh. She threw a shiny red apple high into the air and watched as the water dragon darted forward gracefully to snatch it before crushing the whole fruit to pulp with a happy snort.

"She doesn't look like the Shimauma Tatsu in my books." Bonnie felt her mouth say without her permission. The distraction had Sister Trunks looking around at her and then dodging swiftly away from the needle sharp fangs of the water dragon who'd darted out to take a bite out of the old woman's arm while she wasn't looking.

"Enough of that! You've got your apples. Now then, this young lady has had too much of the moon flower. You're going to help her. Don't look at me like that! You're going to do it or you get no more apples." she scolded the dragon, almost exactly as if it were no more dangerous than a puppy. "You've never seen a Moonscale before, girl? They're rare. A subspecies of an endangered species and absolutely illegal to export from its native Japan in any way. So naturally we have one. She's a rescue, the Revered Mother took her from an abusive home. See the way the scales shine in the light? Those stripes are black on most Shimauma Tatsu but Riko's a rare golden type. A moonscale. They have unusual powers of their own but this one is a Waking Dreamer. She's never completely within our realm. Her venom will counteract the moon gentian and bring your friend back to you."

It was just possible in the flickering light to make out the fine stripes of gold covering the water dragon's pale body as it crushed yet another apple and swirled down to examine Marceline's prone form. Bonnie gasped in shock but stayed in her seat as instructed as the huge serpentine dragon, more than twenty feet long, wrapped coil after gleaming coil around her beloved's body before sinking its long fangs into the side of her throat and shaking her violently.

"Does it hurt?" she whispered to Sister Trunks, who had appeared next to her on what turned out to be a long wooden bench.

"Oh yes. The pain is part of the treatment. Have you ever pinched yourself to check that you were awake?" the old lady asked.

"But the dragon won't... She'll be ok, won't she?"

"Riko won't kill her, no. She's vicious when she wants to be, she hates me especially since I'm her keeper, but she prefers apples to human flesh. So long as she knows there'll be fruit afterwards she'll do no more than use her venom to heal."

They lapsed into silence again, watching the dragon as its coils shifted uneasily in time with Marceline's quiet groans and whimpers. How Sister Trunks knew what was happening beneath the shining spirals of the dragon's body was a mystery to Bonnie. It felt like hours but there was no real way to measure time except by her still-frantic heartbeats and as the silence thickened Bonnie lost track of how much time had passed. Was it morning yet? How long would it take before Hunson and Simon noticed Marceline's absence? The redhead had no idea how pureblood tracking might work, was Hunson protective enough of his only heir that he'd be able to place a tracking spell on her from such a great distance? Before she'd completely worked through the pros and cons of asking Sister Trunks if she knew anything about it the dragon abruptly let go of Marceline and slithered back into her pool.

"Marcy, can you hear me? Are you ok?"

Bonnie was by her side in an instant, shaking her gently by the shoulders and letting out a sob of relief when muddy hazel-green eyes opened to stare fuzzily up at her.

"...Bon? I had a dream 'bout you... bad dream..." Marcy muttered, before closing her eyes again and rested her head in her girlfriend's arms with a contented sigh.

"You inhaled the moon gentian and got sick, I took you to Stonehenge for help. It's a long story, I'll tell you all about it at home. I was so scared." Bonnie murmured to her.

"Mmm, Spinster's Coven. They can fix dreams. Simon told me one time. M'tired, can we go home?"

As soon as Marceline could stand and walk with help Sister Trunks led them back to the main cavern to bid their respectively tearful and sleepy goodbyes. She was glad it had turned out well for the Abadeer heir and her beau, though it was a shame the poor girl was cursed with lycanthropy. That would not end well when her girlfriend's pureblood relatives found out about them. She was lost in her thoughts, humming happily to herself and wondering if the Dreamer had left enough apples for her to make a pie the next day. Most of the Sisters were sleeping and soon she'd retire to her rooms, too. A murmur behind her had her spinning on her heels and through the instantaneous shock she tried to cry out for help. It was all in vain; the whispered word had been _silencio_. Next second she was dangling from her ankle in the air still unable to make a sound as her mouth stretched into a silent scream.

"Sister Trunks. I hear men are forbidden in your little stone cave, and yet here I am. Honestly I don't see what all the fuss it about. So, my sister inhaled moon gentian, hm? And you just had to fix her, didn't you? Took me a while to find her, clever of Snape to send her here where the ley lines interfere with tracking magic. What did I miss? Her, obviously, and her mysterious friend. Oh that's right, you can't talk. Let me introduce myself. I'm Marshall Lee Zadith Chandan, the once and future Abadeer heir, and I'm very upset that you didn't just let that little weakling die. This was a perfect opportunity taken right out of my hands. What's that? Yes, you're right, I suppose I should just go torture it out of Snape myself. But since I just got here and I have you unable to scream for help and all, it would be a shame to miss two opportunities tonight. _Crucio!_ "

The chamber was silent but for the breathing of two humans and the occasional shifting of the dragon way below at the bottom of her pool. A neat little splash broke the surface of the water some time later but it wasn't loud enough to bring any of the other Spinsters of Stonehenge running. By the time someone brought Sister Trunks' breakfast the next morning and discovered her face down in the pool there was no sign that anyone else had been in the room that night.


End file.
